


Reencounter

by berkinix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Gore, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 60,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berkinix/pseuds/berkinix
Summary: Former Rebel spy Ahsoka Tano continues her unrelenting search for the Force-sensitive Ezra Bridger, accompanied by her friend and ally since the times of the Rebellion, Sabine Wren. The two companions have been scanning the uncharted regions of Wild Space beyond the Outer Rim, to no avail. Although their mission is important to her, Ahsoka is soon pulled towards a different destiny…
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano & Darth Maul
Comments: 13
Kudos: 38





	1. Phantoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with illustrations! (Okay, just one.)

Ahsoka stepped cautiously into the abandoned home. It was roomy, but plain, and had obviously been sparsely furnished even when occupied. So, this had been Obi-Wan’s home. This is where he had spent years in isolation, looking over Anakin’s son, waiting for the time when Luke would be ready to take on his father’s mantle. Glancing about the dimly lit abode, Ahsoka thought it seemed a terribly lonely existence. One she was not sure she could have ever pulled off. Master Kenobi really was one of the best Jedi to have ever lived. A true embodiment of the Order and its teachings. Ahsoka felt so inadequate in the presence of what had been the old master’s home; her own accomplishments with the Rebellion seemed insignificant compared to the sacrifice Obi-Wan made, and the important ramifications of that sacrifice.

Still, the Togruta didn’t linger on her shortcomings. She had an important task to carry out, after all. Nimbly, she made her way through the debris littered about the floor – scavengers had obviously ventured inside in the past years, rummaging through the home looking for anything of value, leaving a mess – and to the center of the single room. There, finding an empty spot on the ground, she knelt facing the raised kitchen area and prepared for meditation, as though she were a youngling at the temple on Coruscant. She willed her muscles to relax and breathed deeply. Stilling her mind, she reached out to the Cosmic Force with her feelings, searching for the object that had brought her to Tatooine.

She was still in a bit of a shock from having encountered her old mentor’s apparition in the Force a few cycles earlier. Luke Skywalker had told her of these “Force Ghosts” appearing to him and offering guidance, and she was aware of past Jedi Masters communicating with those who had passed before them, but it was always through practiced meditation. She hadn’t known Obi-Wan could materialize out of the ether whenever he seemingly felt like it. It had been a bit unnerving, entering the quarters she shared on the T-6 shuttle with Sabine, to see a glowing, translucent, yet completely present Master Kenobi waiting for her patiently. More unsettling was his message to her: a darkness was brewing in the Force. While the menace of Emperor Palpatine had been eradicated and balance restored due to Anakin’s sacrifice, now, years later, an evil was growing, attempting to fill the void left behind by the Sith Lord. This was not the normal avarice and lust for power of the Moffs and Admirals at play, but a more sinister darkness based firmly in the Force, in the Dark Side.

_“You must go to Tatooine,” Obi-Wan had urged. “Find my old settlement, past the northwestern outskirts of Mos Eisley in the Jundland Wastes. There, you will find an artifact that is of great interest to these Dark Ones. I feel they will seek out its power to fuel their cause. I fear I did the wrong thing by not destroying it completely years ago.”_

_“What is it?” Ahsoka had asked the old master. “What am I to look for?”_

_“You will know when you see it.” Obi-Wan had stated evasively._

_“And what am I to do with this object once I find it? Do I destroy it?”_

_Obi-Wan had remained quiet for a while, lost in thought. “This you will also judge for yourself when the time comes. But understand this, Ahsoka: whatever you decide to do, this item must not fall into the wrong hands. The consequences could prove disastrous for the entire galaxy!”_

_“Then why **me**?” Ahsoka demanded. “Why send me to retrieve such an important artifact? Why not warn Luke, or even Leia? Surely both are far better equipped to deal with the dangers this thing poses. They’re the ones destined to rebuild the Republic. Don’t you think they should be the ones to decide?”_

_“The Skywalker twins both have their hands full at the moment,” Obi-Wan replied. “Also, do not downplay your own prowess in the Force. Although Luke and Leia are powerful, they yet have much to learn. The experience you possess: both as a soldier and as one of the last remaining people who were taught directly by the Old Order, will prove invaluable in the handling of this item. The components of this artifact are old, dating back to before the start of the Clone Wars. It is of great significance to the Sith, and those who wish to take their place.”_

_While the Togruta pondered his words, Obi-Wan continued, “In fact,” he cautioned, looking into her face with phantom eyes just as intense as they had been in life, “I urge you to not allow this item near the Skywalkers, especially Leia. They are not prepared for the influence it could hold over their Living Force, and Leia is even more vulnerable in this regard, having received no instruction at all from Master Yoda.”_

_“Don’t you trust in Luke’s ability to train his sister?” Ahsoka had asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “If you don’t believe he can, how can you entrust the entirety of the Jedi Order’s future to him?”_

_“It was never my intent to burden Luke with restoring the Jedi Order. He has taken that task onto himself. In fact, Yoda prophesized that the Old Order would essentially die with the Skywalkers. **Anakin** was the Chosen One,” Obi-Wan said pointedly. “He was the One who would restore balance to the Force, which in the end, he did. His children are tasked now with keeping that balance. Never in that equation has it been factored in that the Jedi Order must continue.”_

The conversation with the Jedi Master’s apparition had left Ahsoka feeling unsettled. The thought that the Jedi teachings should die out made her incredibly sad. She was the first person to admit that the Order had its flaws and needed a complete reevaluation of its core principles and teachings in order to avoid pitfalls in the future, but the finality of Master Kenobi’s words were simply too much. How could the Jedi be allowed to vanish from the galaxy? Did not the sacrifices of others who had once been members of the Old Order – Kanan Jarrus, Cere Junda, Quinlan Vos – clearly show that there were redeeming qualities to the Jedi? She had brought her concerns forward to Luke Skywalker once she and Sabine returned to the Core and rendezvoused with the budding New Republic Coalition in order for the young Mandalorian to obtain a new vessel. Sabine had decided to continue her search for Ezra on her own, although Ahsoka had asked her friend to reconsider and wait for her to complete her side-mission.

_“Ahsoka,” her friend had said with a sad smile, “do you really believe you will be able to merely find this artifact and be done with it? We both know this undertaking likely has a point of no return. As much as I appreciate your desire to help me find Ezra, you’re a Force user. I may not understand much of how the Force works, but I do know it’s pulling your life in a different direction than mine. I will find Ezra, and I’ll be fine on my own.”_

_Luke also, waved Ahsoka’s misgivings aside. “The Jedi will not end with me,” he assured the Togruta before she departed for his home-world. “Old Ben was right to say that restoring the Order was not my original destiny… but I believe in the Jedi. My father was one. Before dying, my mother entrusted my care and that of my sister to the judgment of Jedi Masters. That doesn’t mean I agree with everything Master Yoda or Obi-Wan decided was best for me, and this is one of those things. The Jedi Order will continue, as much as I can help it. If Obi-Wan thinks it better for you to retrieve this artifact – which seems to be of Sith design, if we interpret Obi-Wan’s message correctly – then so be it; you go with my approval. You can even keep it from me and my sister the way Obi-Wan requested if you feel it to be the best course of action. But don’t lose hope. Do not lose your faith in us, as we will never lose our faith in you.”_

So, with all these words clouding her thoughts, it was hard for the Togruta to find inner peace and concentrate now, all alone in the synstone building. She hadn’t the slightest clue as to what she was even looking for, or where to start. “Let the Force guide you,” Obi-Wan had said before disappearing, and Ahsoka attempted to do so now. Releasing her insecurities and doubts, she instead focused on the Cosmic Force around her, flowing like a current, moving around and through the abandoned building. For the most part, she sensed nothing. There was no trace of any other source of the Living Force other than her own, and it interacted delicately with the Cosmic Force of the planet itself.

After a moment, Ahsoka shifted her strategy. Instead of reaching out with her feelings and trying to find an energy source in the Force, she breathed deeply and reined in her Living Force back to her, settling it around her like a shroud, and listened. Listened with more than her montrals, opening herself up to the aura of everything around her, no longer seeking, but receiving whatever messages the Cosmic Force wished to communicate to her.

She began to sense ripples throughout the Cosmic Force. From a great distance away, she could feel the aura of desert creatures that made the Jundland Wastes their home. Wild black melons were growing in a patch up against the southern wall of the abandoned building she was in: Ahsoka could sense that some were ripe and filled with milk, ready for harvesting. A nest of womp rats was beginning to stir in their underground den, less than a klick westward from her location. They were growing restless as the suns of Tatooine set and the sands cooled. They would soon emerge in search of food, once the first sun had completely set behind the dunes. Further west still, she could sense a lone scurrier running through the dunes, away from the womp rat nest. Perhaps it had caught their odor. It paused briefly to scent-mark its territory before continuing its journey. Aside from this passive energy of the non-sentient lifeforms on Tatooine, Ahsoka thought she could sense a darker presence, an evasive shadow just beyond the reach of her perception. Luke had warned her of the Tusken Raiders of Tatooine, although he hadn’t had to: their hostile reputation was well known throughout the galaxy. Ahsoka was aware that they inhabited the Jundland Wastes, but she wasn’t sure that the aura she felt was from their kind. As angry and aggressive as the presence felt, there was also something uniquely familiar about it… something the Togruta couldn’t yet place. It remained far away, much further than anything else she could perceive through the Force, but for the life of her, she couldn’t pinpoint its approximate physical distance, or even in what direction it lay. Since it posed no real threat to her at the moment, Ahsoka ignored it and tried to feel for anything closer to her.

Eventually, after sifting through the dull buzz of life around her, the Togruta felt a quiet hum. It was coming from the kyber crystals in the two lightsabers at her hips. Softly, the crystals seemed to sing. As they had done years before, when she first acquired them, they appeared to be calling her attention with their song. However, unlike that time, when she rescued them from the Sixth Brother’s possession, they now were resonating not to her unique Force signature, but rather to someone – or something – else in the vicinity. Ahsoka had always trusted the will of the Force and knew these crystals in her weapons were more than mere tools: they were, in a sense, her friends and partners who often facilitated her communication with and understanding of said will. Gingerly, she reached down to the saber hilts sheathed at her sides and touched them.

Instantly, the gentle song rose in intensity inside her head: her crystals were almost wailing, crying out a lament, akin to a hymn. They were sensing the pain of another, and by touching them, Ahsoka could suddenly feel it as well. It was a dark pain, twisted in anger and spite. The fury was contained, however, and weak, as though coming from a wounded animal. Ahsoka immediately understood that this sentiment was stemming from the object she had been sent to find. Unsheathing her sabers and rising to her feet, with her eyes still closed, the Togruta ignited her blades. Following her instincts, she began to sway on the spot, holding her lightsabers before her at arm’s length, and slowly went through the basic movements of combat taught to all Jedi. She cycled through them deliberately, allowing the crystals in her blades to resonate with the Force around her, trusting them to guide her in the correct direction.

The song of her sabers wept but did nothing to connect with the hidden artifact further. Ahsoka was going through the motions of Shii-Cho, the most elementary form of combat taught to Padawans, and now transitioned over to Form II, Makashi. She admittedly wasn’t that great at it, and her sabers even seemed to protest against the unfamiliar arcs she made with her movements, so she then continued with Soresu. Again, nothing different happened, and she had no more clue as to where the artifact could be. It was the same even after she settled into the moves of Ataru and Shien, her two favored combat styles. She could feel the dark power emanating from the hidden item but was no closer to finding its location. As she moved into Form VI, Nieman, she feared there would be nothing she could do to locate what she was looking for.

In the end, there was only one form left for her to try: Juyo. Unfortunately – or perhaps quite fortunately indeed – Ahsoka had never been trained in such a form, or even its Jedi variant: Vaapad. It was well-known to be a Sith technique, and only two Masters – Mace Windu and his former Padawan, Depa Billaba – had been known to practice it at all. In fact, it was Master Windu who had developed the Vaapad version of Form VII, and he had been very selective of who he passed his teachings on to. Ahsoka had seen Juyo in action a few times: always in Dark Side users. Although she had been able to hold her own against the technique when used against her, it had been very taxing on her – both physically and mentally. She didn’t even know how to go about employing such a technique: it was so violent, almost hateful.

Instead, Ahsoka poured her trust and energy into her white blades once more, purposefully choosing to forgo any more preset _jurus_ and rather let her movements flow freely in _tari._ Delicately, as though dancing, she twirled her sabers, rotating them from her reversed handgrip to the more traditional forward one, bringing them up over her head and forward as she did so. The two blades gently touched against one another before her face, in an x-pattern. The crackle of the two beams of light touching sent a shiver down her spine, seemed to ripple through the floor from her feet. Behind her, to her left, she sensed an echo of that sizzle; it was not audible, for it was more of a phantom sound perceived only through the Force. The artifact was reacting to the possibility of two sabers clashing in combat: Ahsoka could discern that conflict had whet its appetite.

Calmly, the Togruta opened her eyes and turned to the direction from where she had felt the reaction. In that corner of the room was a small table that no doubt once held items on display. Now, the table was barren and dusty, and the things once placed atop it so carefully by Obi-Wan were strewn about broken on the floor around it. Although the tabletop was empty, there was no mistaking that the artifact was located in the exact same place as the table. Ahsoka felt it as clearly as though it were resting on the slab of synstone. Sheathing her sabers once more, Ahsoka walked over to where the table sat and squatted before it. Perhaps the object was under the counter?

Peering underneath the table, all Ahsoka could see was some scattered rubble and earthen floor. Pushing some of the broken objects aside and touching the ground with a splayed hand, she pushed down lightly with the Force. The dirt floor trembled, and this time, she clearly felt something beneath the surface respond to her aura: a shock of heat and rage that reverberated up her arm. Ahsoka pulled her hand away quickly, as though burned. Whatever this object was, it seemed to have a temperament of its own. In that instant, she had sensed frustration, agony, despair, all boiling together into a stew of hatred aimed at nothing in particular and at everything simultaneously. At her hips, both her lightsabers hummed in sorrow once more. And all at once, Ahsoka understood what the hidden artifact was, or at least, what it housed: a kyber crystal, bled by the Sith.

The Togruta had encountered bled kyber crystals before, sure. Countless times, during various encounters with the reemergent Sith during the span of the Clone Wars, and afterwards when encountering the Inquisitorius during the time of the Empire. For the most part, she had never sensed any true emotions from the blades of her opponents; to be quite honest, the last thing she had been trying to do then was try to commune with her enemy’s weapons. Those scarlet sabers, much like those of the Jedi, were an extension of the user, and she had been too occupied in dealing with the wielders to try to separate them from their armaments. The only time she had ever sensed the kyber crystals in an opponent’s weapon was when she found the crystals housed in her current lightsabers. Despite being in the presence of the Inquisitor who was wielding them at the time, Ahsoka had clearly heard their sad song call out to her, and she knew they were meant for her. It was why they cried out to her. However, this was possibly the first time she was encountering a Sith weapon without its user. She had never given it much thought but had naturally assumed that other kyber crystals that had been bled by Dark Side adherents for their own use must of course also wish to be purged of their evil influence, as hers had. Not so with this particular crystal. Its rejection of her Light Side aura was palpable, and the waves of Force energy it emitted now as in warning felt venomous to her. She understood why Obi-Wan had asked her to keep this object away from Anakin’s children. For a moment, she felt a twinge of fear in her chest.

Stubbornly, she pushed the sentiment aside and set her jaw before reaching down to the ground once more and pushing at the soil that made up the floor, casting it away with the Force. _You **will** come to me! _she told the buried artifact, pulling it up towards her despite the waves of burning hatred that now were clearly emanating from it.

The floor shifted and groaned, the hard-packed sand that made up the ground splitting and heaving as whatever was beneath it moved to the surface. Ahsoka could feel the item fighting her, which surprised her: she had never heard of a weapon having an agency of its own. In the end, however, the Togruta was successful, and she soon saw a metal case poke up through the earthen floor. With a final Force-yank, the thing was in her hands, and as though in a final act of defiance, the coffer flew to her with such strength, it knocked hard against her stomach and threw her back several feet. The display table, too, was tossed aside and split asunder. Ahsoka felt as though she had been drop-kicked by a Wookie. With the air knocked out of her, she continued to clutch at the strongbox now in her hands as she heaved for breath. She could feel whatever was inside the small metal chest practically vibrating in protest, and it was a while before the Togruta could sit up and truly examine the case in her lap.

It was a long, slender durasteel box, hermetically sealed and locked electromagnetically, from what Ahsoka could see. The long years it obviously spent buried in the sand had not done much to damage the surface, likely due to the alkaline nature of the soil of Tatooine. There was a minute amount of corrosion on the lid of the coffer, especially around the hinges, but other than that, it was very well preserved. Frowning, she tilted the box up to study the locking mechanisms more closely. It was definitely a magseal, which could prove to be a problem. Most magnetic seals could only be bypassed by disabling the electrical feed that powered the lock. A skilled Force user might be able to do so, but it would take a long time and would be extremely taxing. Shooting the lock wouldn’t work either, as laser blasts would bounce right off the electromagnetic field. Even most Jedi didn’t like dealing with magseals and would simply cut through the locks with their lightsabers, but with such a small variant, Ahsoka worried she might damage the contents of the case.

She was quite good at working around various mechanisms, though, and she was sure she’d figure something out. However, the light from outside was fading fast as the first sun of Tatooine was already more than halfway set. It would become dark soon, and she needed to set up proper shelter. She hadn’t planned on staying in the abandoned hut, seeing as how there was no power, and therefore no real way to secure herself in. She wasn’t afraid of what creatures roamed the sands of Tatooine at night, or even worried about the territorial Sand People. However, now that she had the artifact in her possession – albeit in a sealed metal strongbox – she couldn’t help but remember the urgency in Obi-Wan’s tone as he pushed her to find and take the item with her before anyone else could. The thing had begun openly radiating dark energy from the moment the coffer ended up in her hands. The Togruta felt she had awakened some dormant dangerous thing that hadn’t meant to be disturbed, and likely hadn’t wanted to be. Now that it was active, she could sense its dark power pulsing in waves outward through the Force. Maybe those who were not Force-sensitive could not feel it, but she couldn’t be sure. It was rumored that Krayt dragons – non-sentient as they were – _could_ utilize the Force to some extent. Would these apex predators be attracted to the thing inside the box? If they were, the small synstone abode would crumble like so much sand that made up the dunes around it. She had hoped to be back in civilization – if Mos Eisley could be called civilized – before nightfall. Brutes, drunkards, thieves and assassins she could handle. Gigantic Force-sensitive desert reptiles… she wasn’t too sure.

Ahsoka calculated the distance she needed to travel back to Mos Eisley – approximately 200 klicks – and had to admit that even if going at full speed, she would not reach the spaceport by nightfall. Travelling at night on Tatooine was essentially a death wish, so the Togruta decided to set up camp in the hut after all, and went about using the little time she had before the dark and cold took over the planet to gather what supplies and food she could. Placing the durasteel coffer back under the ruins of the display table, she went outside and brought her rented speeder up against the building and used it to block the front door. She took her supplies off it while she was at it. She wasn’t carrying much: just her white cloak, staff and a satchel with tools. Still, she didn’t want to risk anyone coming along and taking her things. Jawas were notorious thieves, and she knew the sneaky little things travelled the entirety of the desert lands. She hefted her small pack onto her back and tucked the robe in under the straps. Afterwards, she went around to the south side of the building and picked those melons she had sensed earlier. She didn’t have much preference for fruits or vegetables – her species was carnivorous by nature – but the black desert melons of Tatooine weren’t too bad. The milk was mildly sweet and the fibrous flesh, although bland, was filling and nutritious. Her master, Anakin, had been fond of them, and often claimed they were the only worthwhile thing, aside from his mother, to come from the planet of his birth.

Once back inside, she checked out the space heater in the small kitchen, but of course it no longer worked. This was probably the reason it hadn’t been taken by scavengers. She would have to make do with her white robe as sufficient cover against the night chill, unless she found something with which to make a fire. Fortunately, she found a wooden storage chest – broken and ransacked, as much of the things in the abandoned home were – laying on its side among the junk. She pulled it across the room, towards a small alcove in the wall. In the rounded nook there was a raised synstone section, long and wide enough to accommodate three people to sit side-by-side, or two to lay in. Ahsoka was sure this had been used as a bed, for it was still covered with an old, worn-out, make-shift mattress, which was really just some kind of animal hide on top of a heap of dried grass. The Togruta patted it down before sitting in it, scattering bits of the hay and making a few shiny brown beetles scurry out of the bedding. She removed her backpack and placed it and the rolled-up robe on the bed, then collapsed her white staff and lay it beside her other things. Satisfied, she cleared the area around the bed and began to break the wooden chest into useable chunks of firewood. She took some of the Poonten grass from the mattress for kindling and soon had a small campfire going. Not a moment too soon, it seemed, for she could see through the tiny windows across the room that things had gotten significantly darker outside. The inside of the old abode had been rather dim as it were, with no electricity of any kind, but with the sunlight gone, if the Togruta hadn’t found a way to make a fire, she would have been left in pitch darkness.

With a sigh, Ahsoka went over to where she’d left the durasteel coffer hidden underneath the rubble and fished it back out. She could feel the crystal inside vibrate in protest, but it was a softer hum now, almost resigned. She took the case back over to the niche in the wall and sat cross-legged on the bed, carefully placing it beside her. She wasn’t sure what to do with the Sith artifact, and she supposed she wouldn’t be able to make a decision unless she knew what it was. The nights on Tatooine weren’t long, but Ahsoka didn’t want to wait until daybreak to try and open the strongbox. She grabbed her satchel and rummaged around it briefly, taking out a multi-tool utility vibroblade. She also grabbed magnifying goggles and slipped them on, adjusting their intensity to where she could make out the electromagnetic seal mechanism clearly despite the flickering light of the fire. Finally ready, the Togruta took the coffer into her lap and set to work.

She was surprised at how little difficulty she had at disabling the electrical feed of the lock; she spent scarcely a few minutes tampering with the seal at most before she felt it begin to give. She assumed the same alkaline levels of the desert sands that had preserved the metal box had also weakened the magnetic mechanism of the lock. She managed to crack it open without even having to cut through the actual latch itself. Ahsoka was rather pleased, but also uncomfortably aware at how easily the item could have fallen into another’s hands. Knowing that Obi-Wan may have boobytrapped the metal case, Ahsoka hesitated before opening it fully. She decided to set it on the floor, away from the bed and fire, and took a deep breath and held it before cracking it open quickly with the tip of her vibroblade and stepping back, as though something venomous might leap out to attack her from within.

When nothing happened after a few seconds, the Togruta ventured back to the open box and risked a peek inside. There, nestled carefully in folds of brown fabric, what appeared to be a wooden stick poked out. Ahsoka blinked in confusion. Of all the things she had expected to find, this was certainly not it. How could a wooden cane be dangerous? And how did anyone manage to house a kyber crystal inside it? Better yet: _why?_

Gingerly, she picked up the strongbox and took it back to the bed, setting it on the edge so the light from the fire could illuminate it better. Still cautious, she picked at the rough fabric covering the item and unwrapped it. When the object was finally exposed and in plain view, Ahsoka felt the knot of apprehension in her stomach drop into the pit of her abdomen and settle there like lead.

This was a weapon she had seen before, had crossed blades with, actually, and she felt a bit foolish for not having recognized it the moment she had laid eyes on that bit of exposed cane material. It was Maul’s saberstaff.

She and Darth Maul had history that dated back to the end of the Clone Wars. In fact, they had been aboard the same vessel when the Zabrak’s former master, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious had initiated Order 66, which began the eradication of nearly the entirety of the Jedi. Both she and Maul had become targets of the Clone Troopers, although neither were in the Jedi Order. Palpatine wanted no one who could rival his power to remain alive, and in the ensuing struggle, Ahsoka had been forced to release the Dathomirian Nightbrother in order to have enough of a diversion for her and her friend Rex to escape with their lives. She hadn’t counted on the former Sith’s vengeful power, however, for he cut a swath of death and destruction inside the ship, felling many of the Clone Troopers who had once been her friends, and ultimately bringing down the entire Star Destroyer by ripping out the hyperdrive using only the Force. To say they had left on poor terms didn’t even begin to cover it.

Afterwards, years later, she’d run into him again on Malachor, the site of an ancient Sith temple. Here, they had faced off in combat again, and he made it rather clear that he still considered her an enemy and would like nothing more than to eradicate her along with whoever else he had on his long list of vendettas. It was here that she had encountered this strange weapon, which he had crafted from the remnants of the blades of fallen Inquisitors.

Double-bladed lightsabers, or saberstaffs, were a rarity among Force users. That she had known of, aside from the Temple Guards (whose weapons were passed down since ancient times), only two Jedi Masters – Pong Krell and Jaro Tapal – had learned to craft such weapons. The Empire’s Inquisitors also used double-bladed lightsabers, but they were all identical, obviously manufactured en masse, and they often malfunctioned on their wielders or broke easily in combat. These weapons were tricky to construct, for they required two kyber crystals: one for each blade. Getting _one_ crystal to resonate to a person’s aura was tricky enough, let alone two. On top of this, they had to be calibrated to reverberate with each other as well, and not all crystals were compatible in this way. Now that she thought on it, the fact that Maul was able to not only assemble this version of a lightsaber once, but at least two times, was remarkable.

Ahsoka stared quietly at the weapon in the box for a long time, lost in thought. She could see that it was broken, cut in two. Judging by the clean cut down the middle of the hilt, and the charring that was present, she surmised Obi-Wan’s blade had been the one to slice it in half. The cane sheath was still in one piece, and the way the entire thing had been placed inside the box denoted great care and respect had gone into locking it away. She wondered how the old Jedi Master had come across the weapon, although from what she knew of Maul, she could certainly guess.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” a voice commented from the center of the room. Ahsoka nearly jumped out of her skin, and she slammed the long durasteel box shut and clutched it against her chest, defensive. She had been so engrossed in the weapon that she hadn’t noticed anyone’s approach. Upon seeing her visitor, she visibly relaxed. Well, there was no way she could have heard _this_ person approach. There, on the other side of the small fire, stood the ghostly apparition of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Goodness, Master,” the Togruta said with a sigh of relief. She sat back in the bed and grinned at the ghost of her old friend. “Your house is a mess.”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, making his way over to the alcove and sitting down beside her. Ahsoka noticed he walked around the fire, but part of his robes went right through the flames. The light flickered, but aside from that, the campfire was undisturbed. The Force was truly a fascinating thing.

“Yes, well, I assure you, it wasn’t always so,” the old Jedi replied. He looked around the room and smiled. “I tended well to this place during my stay here. It was a good home.”

“It’s a shame that it has fallen into such disrepair,” Ahsoka mused, looking around as well. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, home is not a place,” Obi-Wan replied serenely. “It’s a feeling. And I have moved beyond the living realm.”

Ahsoka was suddenly filled with many questions regarding the afterlife. She was curious about the Netherworld of the Force, and how it was possible that Obi-Wan had come back from it. Was the Netherworld his home now? Did he even _need_ a home?

However, all those questions could wait. She had other, more pertinent ones. Namely about the saberstaff in her lap.

“Obi-Wan…” she began, unsure of where to start.

“You wish to know how I came upon this weapon?”

“Well, I can guess _how…”_ the Togruta said with a shrug. “But I _am_ curious as to what happened to its wielder. What happened to Maul? You fought him, didn’t you?”

The old Jedi Master paused and looked thoughtfully at the box in Ahsoka’s lap. He finally looked up at her and said solemnly: “The Sith that was Darth Maul is dead.”

Ahsoka nodded quietly. Of course, she had figured as much, from the moment she had laid eyes upon the weapon. “Sabine told me about what the Specters went through, after I parted ways with them on Malachor. Maul not only tried to kill them all, but also coerced Ezra into performing some type of ceremony where their minds became linked. He used the combined power of the Jedi and Sith holocrons to find you. Sabine said Ezra accidentally led him to you, and that the last he had seen of him, he was about to confront you in the desert.”

“Sadly, Darth Maul never grew beyond his resentment for the world,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Despite learning from the holocrons of a prophecy that involved me, he was willing to throw everything away, for the sake of personal revenge. It was petty, to put it mildly.”

“Why did you keep this?” Ahsoka suddenly asked, motioning to the coffer on her lap.

Obi-Wan sighed. It was a moment before he spoke. “My history with Darth Maul goes back much further than yours,” he said at last. “As you know, he was the one to kill my master on Naboo. During the instances we clashed over the course of the Clone Wars, we never ceased to try to destroy each other. You could say it allowed us both to grow as warriors, knowing the other was out there still. However, ultimately… I suppose I held a type of respect for him. Seeing the threat that he was come to an end made me recognize that he had been a formidable foe. I believe I’ve told you of my perspective regarding his true constitution.”

“You once told me, when I was still a Padawan, that you believed he never had a real choice in his life, that his destiny was set in motion from nearly the moment he was born,” Ahsoka said, nodding. “His fate was decided from the start by both the Nightsisters and later Sidious.”

“I still hold that belief.”

“Even after he killed Duchess Satine?”

“Yes, Ahsoka,” the Jedi phantom replied. “I can almost guarantee that Satine’s death plagued Maul more than it ever did me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I could see it,” Obi-Wan replied with a sad shake of his head. “There was a haunted look in his eyes when we last faced each other on this very planet.”

The two were quiet for a few minutes, Ahsoka opening the coffer again and staring at the weapon in her lap, Obi-Wan gazing into the small fire. Each were lost in their own thoughts of the past, connected only through the memory of the Zabrak who had been an adversary to them both.

“So,” the Togruta began at last, “you kept his weapon sealed away to… honor him?”

“In a sense, I suppose so,” Obi-Wan replied. “Honoring the rivalry more so than the man, certainly. For all the pain and damage he caused in my life – starting with him felling my master, whom I saw as a father – he must have viewed me in the same manner. When our paths converged on Naboo all those decades ago, the resulting fallout was a turning point for both of us. And, if we’re being honest, he probably got the short end of the stick in that match. Perhaps there was a sense of guilt in my actions as well, in keeping that lightsaber,” he nodded to the durasteel box in the Togruta’s lap. “Maybe I wanted to honor his existence in some way because no one ever had.”

Ahsoka remained silent, contemplating the broken saberstaff. She still hadn’t dared to touch the weapon, and now she ventured to gently run a finger over the material of the cane sheath. She could sense the crystals within the two pieces of hilt buzz hotly through the Force.

“As I told you earlier,” Obi-Wan continued, “that may have been a mistake on my part. The Sith may be eradicated at long last, with the death of the Emperor, but this evil brewing in the Force is not to be taken lightly.”

“But Master,” Ahsoka began with a slight frown. “This saber is broken. Even if someone were to take the crystals inside, I doubt they would be able to replicate the actual weapon. Lightsabers in staff form are exceedingly difficult to assemble.”

“Those kyber crystals are bound to the ancient dark power of the Sith,” the ghostly apparition said. “They may not submit to another’s hand to be crafted into a weapon, but they _are_ a powerful beacon to other elements of that cursed religion.”

“A beacon…” Ahsoka mused, tilting her head as she thought over the old master’s words. “You mean that they can be used to find Sith holocrons or other artifacts?”

“This is how I believe Maul ended up on Malachor to begin with,” Obi-Wan said with a nod. “Of course, he already knew of the Sith temple there – he had likely visited the place before, as an apprentice to Darth Sidious. But there are many ancient temples throughout the galaxy core and beyond, and all hold their secrets. A hidden holocron is not so easily found unless one has the right tools to find it.”

“Which is why you told me this cannot fall into the wrong hands,” Ahsoka concluded. “Those hands being who, exactly? The last remnants of the Empire have finally admitted defeat after the Battle of Jakku. Even the few factions of Moffs that refused to surrender have fled past the Outer Rim for the most part. You mentioned that the danger comes from the Dark Side, but I cannot think of anyone other than the Imperial Armada who still had any ties to Emperor Palpatine.”

“There are other adherers to the Dark Side than those of Sidious’s lineage,” Obi-Wan said, thoughtfully stroking his beard.

“You mean a sect other than the Sith?” the Togruta asked, furrowing her brow slightly. “I was under the impression that Palpatine had eradicated any Force-sensitive factions he couldn’t assimilate into his Inquisitorius Program, even if they aligned with the Dark Side.”

“The galaxy is vast,” Obi-Wan countered, “to attempt to eviscerate any and all those strong in the Force was an ambitious and ultimately impossible undertaking. In order to be successful, the Emperor would have needed to focus all of his own powers continuously on this one goal alone, rendering him useless as a monarch. This is why so many slipped through the cracks, including you, my dear.”

“So _many?”_ Ahsoka asked, a bit affronted. “The Cosmic Force went heavy and silent with so much death after Order 66 was enacted,” she said. “Those of us who remained lived in constant fear, suppressing our Living Force as best we could in order to remain undetected! _You_ were one of those, Master! Where there had once been thousands of beacons in the Cosmic Force, I now sense hardly any! There may be even less than a hundred of us left.”

“Possibly,” the apparition agreed with a sad nod. “I did not mean to downplay the atrocities the Empire committed. I felt the death and sorrow permeate throughout the Force as well, and you are right to suggest that the fabric of existence was never the same afterward. However, compared to what Palpatine’s original intent was, you must admit that he failed spectacularly. It is why, in the grand scheme of things, the Empire’s duration was actually quite short. And thankfully, the Sith failed in their quest for galactic conquest and crumbled into oblivion. Now, we just need to make sure the Sith _stay_ dead.”

“You believe that by using the crystals in this weapon, some may try to revive the cult?”

“There are already other Dark Side groups coming forward from the shadows in order to take the Emperor’s place, as Luke has begun to discover. I do not get the sense that they are very organized at the moment, but if given access to Sith artifacts such as this one, they may be able to use some of the knowledge they find to give rise to something just as sinister as were the Sith Lords. Remember, just as the Jedi Order had the largest wealth of knowledge of the Light Side of the Force, so too did the Sith amass techniques and lore for the Dark Side.”

“Maul himself was on a quest for knowledge when we encountered him on Malachor,” Ahsoka agreed, gazing down upon the cleaved saberstaff. “He wanted to destroy the Sith… but simultaneously was delving deeper into their philosophies and methods. His mind was so twisted by that point, I don’t even think he recognized the irony.”

Ahsoka continued to quietly look down upon the broken weapon in her lap and tried to gently prod at the crystals within with her Living Force. They resisted her, sending small waves of disdain and hate in her direction, but she also sensed something else from them: fear. Did they feel threatened by her presence? She supposed they _were_ at her mercy at the moment, vulnerable. The crystals in her own sabers hummed their melancholy song in her head. “Master,” she asked without looking up. “Do you think it is possible for me to purge these crystals as I did my own?”

When she didn’t receive a reply, the Togruta finally looked up. The apparition of the dead Jedi Master was gone, and she was once again alone in the derelict hut. Ahsoka sighed wearily. As unnerving as it was for her to receive Obi-Wan’s sudden unannounced visits, it was equally annoying when he departed, for he apparently had a habit of doing so just as abruptly.

The ex-Jedi Padawan looked back down at the weapon in the metal case with a frown. The more she thought things over, the more one aspect of Obi-Wan’s original warning struck her as odd. He had mentioned to her that the artifact she was to find in his hut was old, from _before_ the time of the Clone Wars. However, she was quite sure that the Zabrak Sith had constructed this particular saber _after_ Order 66 had been enacted. Had Obi-Wan made a mistake? She somehow doubted it. Unless he had been referring to _another_ item in the house. Still, that made no sense either, for he would certainly have told her as much when he was sitting beside her just moments ago. Ahsoka still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what to do with Darth Maul’s broken saberstaff. She should probably try to destroy the thing, if it was as dangerous as Master Kenobi made it out to be. However, she hesitated to do so. As ridiculous as it sounded even in her own mind, she felt _sorry_ for the bled crystals inside. She supposed pity had also been what stayed Obi-Wan’s hand years ago, although he claimed it had more to do with guilt.

Seeing as how she felt wide awake and felt too much on edge to sleep any time soon, Ahsoka decided she should at least try to retrieve the crystals from within the grip pieces. When she first acquired her crystals, she had simply pulled them to her using the Force, causing the hilt of the rotating saber they were housed in to explode, killing the original wielder. They had come to her effortlessly, almost eagerly: so keen had they been to be liberated from the dark influence surrounding them. These crystals however, rejected her attempts completely, made no secret of their hatred and evil power. They didn’t _want_ to be purged, which she felt left her with no alternative but to destroy them. Remembering the death of the Sixth Brother, the Togruta felt it best if she didn’t try to obtain the encased crystals using the Force. She had hours before daybreak anyway. She reached for her utility vibroblade again and readjusted her goggles, then took a deep breath before finally reaching into the strongbox and grasping one half of the hilt firmly.

The reaction was immediate: Ahsoka felt immense pain radiate up her arm and into her head. It was as though magma were pouring into her skull, making red and orange spots burst behind her scrunched eyes. She almost dropped the hilt back into the coffer, but instead dropped her vibroblade back onto the bed. In that moment, the crystals in her sabers shrieked, and with her free hand, Ahsoka made a grab for one of her own sabers still clipped at her belt.

She felt as though her body were being torn asunder. The hilt of her saber grew red-hot in her clenched fist and her weapons literally buzzed aloud, trembling with the strain. Her own kyber crystals were trying to aid her in subduing the wretched Sith weapon, and over the crackle of the bonfire, Ahsoka could hear the sizzling hiss of the bled crystals in both pieces of the hilt straining and protesting against her touch. The Togruta was afraid her own kyber crystals would shatter inside her sabers. This battle was not truly hers, but theirs: she was merely the conduit that channeled the energies between them.

After what seemed like hours to her, the bled crystals finally began to ebb their flow of hatred into her, and she was able to open her eyes. Judging by the look of the campfire, not much time had actually passed – scarcely a few minutes at most. The wooden crate acting as firewood had not been consumed much more by the flames. Ahsoka was exhausted, completely drained of energy. Her left arm was sore from the strain of clinging to the black metal half-hilt of the Sith Lord’s old weapon, and her right fist was clenched so tightly around her own saber’s handle, that she didn’t think she’d be able to uncurl her stiff fingers to release it. Her head was pounding horribly, and the spots in her vision wouldn’t go away, even with her eyes open. She fully agreed with Obi-Wan now: the Skywalker twins should _never_ come into contact with such a dreadful thing. In fact, no Force user ever should. Her mind brought forward memories of the Dathomirian Zabrak, recalling how easily he had wielded this very staff. His movements had been aggressive, but effortless, even being able to twirl it one-handed while he brandished the cane-sheath in his other hand to use as a bludgeon. How in the universe had he managed that‽

Panting slightly, Ahsoka placed the broken piece of hilt back into the strongbox. She was almost afraid to touch the other half, but figured she had no other choice. Readjusting her grip on her own lightsaber, she steeled herself before reaching over and taking the other half firmly in her hand.

To her surprise, not much happened, other than a rueful shock of heat running up her arm, making her joints ache. It seemed that dominating one crystal meant she had subdued them both, and now the two halves grudgingly allowed her to hold them. The Togruta took a deep, steadying breath before releasing her own saber and letting it rest beside her on the mattress of grass. She silently thanked both her crystals for their aid and tried to focus her attention back to the split weapon before her.

Her vision was still spotty, and she was exceedingly tired, but she was nothing if not stubborn, and she had already resolved to dismantle at least one of the hilt halves in order to take the crystal inside. She blinked a few times to clear her vision. When that didn’t work immediately, she scooted back further on the bed and leaned her back against the wall of the alcove. The synstone was smooth and cool, and had she not just felt the burning of a thousand fires inside her body from wresting control over the Sith weapon, she would have likely been chilled to the bone at the touch. Now, though, it was a most welcome sensation. With a satisfied sigh, Ahsoka nestled up against the wall and allowed her eyes to close.

She snapped them open a few seconds later, having heard a thumping sound from outside. The walls of Master Kenobi’s home were about a meter thick, and the hard-packed synstone – although not a good insulator – _did_ act as a good buffer for sound. Someone or something was wandering around outside the building, and obviously didn’t care much for stealth. With a feeling of dread, Ahsoka’s mind raced to the Krayt dragons the region was known for, and realized with a groan that by attempting to tame the two bled kyber crystals, she must have sent out a Force signature so strong, it had probably been felt from several klicks away.

She hurriedly removed her googles from her face and let them dangle by the straps around her neck, rubbing at her eyes to make the light motes quit dancing in her vision. She needed to be completely alert. She then unclipped her other lightsaber from her belt and instead strapped the broken halves of the Sith saberstaff in their place at her hips: they’d be easier to keep track of than if she packed them back in the metal case. The Togruta quickly gathered her remaining things and crammed them into her rucksack – including her walking staff and the cane sheath – before grabbing her two sabers and getting off the bed. She knew she needed to get out of the house but was unsure of which door to use. The sound she had heard outside had seemed to be just on the other side of the wall she was leaning on, which meant her unwelcome visitor was on the northern side of the hut. The front door – where she had parked her speeder – was on the eastern wall, which meant exiting through there might leave her in plain sight of whatever was out there. She decided to use the back door, along the south side of the building, and hope to sneak around to her speeder before she was detected. She donned her white robe to guard against the cold and hoisted her pack onto her back. She didn’t bother putting out the fire on her way out.

Ahsoka paused briefly in the open doorway before stepping outside. The three moons above were nearly full, offering her better visibility than she had had indoors. However, sight was not particularly a Togruta’s strong point: hearing was. Despite her splitting headache which stubbornly lingered on, Ahsoka was able to use her specialized montrals to form a spatial map of sorts of the surrounding area, taking in every vibration in the vicinity. Now that she was outside though, everything was eerily silent, and the ex-Jedi began to wonder if she had imagined the entire thing, perhaps as an after-effect of her strain against the Sith weapon. However, as she crept silently along the wall towards the front of the house, she distinctly heard the ponderous thumping sound again: this time, from the western end of the building. Those were definitely footsteps. From something _heavy._

Clenching her jaw, the Togruta turned to look behind her, holding her lightsaber hilts at the ready position of Shien. She didn’t think lightsabers would do much against a Krayt dragon, but she wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

As though sensing her disposition, the footsteps hesitated slightly before continuing. Ahsoka was surprised to see a much smaller shadow than she had anticipated round the corner of the synstone building. What’s more, it was humanoid in shape, and as the intruder rounded the corner fully and emerged into the light of the moons, Ahsoka was able to make out its features more clearly.

He was as tall as she was at her montrals, with wide shoulders and a lean build, definitely masculine. His countenance was grotesque and unnatural, but upon a closer look, Ahsoka could see he was wearing a mask of some sort. His bulging eyes were in reality just protruding cylindrical goggles, and his gaping hole of a mouth was some type of filtration mechanism. He had no nose to speak of. Several spikes were poking out of his skull, and from the distance she was at, Ahsoka thought they looked like horns. All this mess of a face was swathed in strips of leather and fabric, which somehow held everything together. His entire outfit was ragged and hued in various shades of tans and browns, which under the light of the moons made him blend into his surroundings. In his hands, he carried a long metal club of some sort with a bent end, and a firearm was strapped to his back – Ahsoka could see the barrel poking out over his shoulder.

Oh, well. She supposed she would rather face off against Sand People over a Krayt dragon any day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Sand Person appears!
> 
> So, I know I haven't posted a new story in a while. Truth is, I have several I'm working on at the moment, and at least one that is complete, but I jump all over my timeline when I write, and I don't wanna inadvertently give spoilers to my own works. I had to go back and try to write things out chronologically. This is one of the first stories (if not the first) in my line of Star Wars fanfics. There are obviously events that occur before this in my timeline, but I feel I can explain things well enough going forward as I go, maybe in the form of flashbacks.
> 
> Anyhow, please tell me what you think! I've written TONS of fanfic over the years, but I've never really shared my writings online before, so any critique is appreciated.


	2. Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the desert planet of Tatooine, a confrontation begins that Ahsoka was not expecting, leading her to face past demons. Quite literally.

Ahsoka stared at the Tusken Raider before her without a word, her stance at the ready, but not yet igniting her sabers. She wanted to avoid conflict if she could help it, seeing as how she still felt a bit unsteady after her taming of the Sith weapon. She was almost at the southeastern corner of the abandoned building by then and considered making a dash for her speeder parked up front. However, she couldn’t be sure if this Tusken warrior was alone or merely acting as a scout for a larger group. Luke had told her they rarely wandered the desert on their own, being a closely-knit tribal species. Furthermore, even if she managed to make it to her speeder bike and leave, that cycler rifle on the Raider’s back was a well-known long-range weapon: primitive, but effective. She’d be easy to pick off as she fled.

The two contemplated one another for a moment, and then with a grunt, the Tusken Raider began to walk towards her, his metal club held firmly in two hands before him. Ahsoka heard the heavy thumping against the sand with every step the humanoid took, and she was surprised that he would make such a great amount of noise. Despite the layers of heavy fabric which the Tusken wore, he certainly didn’t  _ look _ heavyset.

The Togruta quickly pushed the observation aside and took a few steps back, glancing quickly behind her to make sure she wasn’t ambushed.

“I don’t want any trouble,” she called out to the advancing Tusken, lifting one of her arms horizontally in front of her face so he would be able to see the hilt of her weapon clearly. She wasn’t even sure if Sand People could understand Galactic Standard. Even if they did, she didn’t think it would make much of a difference to this one  _ what _ she said, if her knowledge of them was anything to go by. Tusken Raiders were not known for their clemency.

In reply, the Tusken swung his club out in a sweeping arc towards her, one-handed. He then twirled it fluidly in his gloved hand, slamming the spiked end against the wall of the old hut, sending dust and small chunks of synstone everywhere in a show of power. Ahsoka pursed her lips and reluctantly ignited her blades. No matter how strong he appeared, she knew that the Raider was outmatched. Her weapons would cut through his rudimentary cudgel as though it were made of flimsiplast; his only real threat to her was if he had company. Just in case, Ahsoka knew she had to dispatch him quickly, before he notified the rest of his party.

They ran at each other simultaneously. In the back of her mind, the Togruta wondered if this Tusken was Force-sensitive or had merely stumbled upon her by coincidence. She supposed it didn’t really matter at this point. Just before they reached each other, the Tusken Raider leapt up and spun in mid-air, bringing his club down towards Ahsoka’s head. Caught off guard, the Togruta leapt to the side only just in time, with the spiked end of the bludgeon missing her left montral by centimeters. She had never heard of Sand People fighting in such a disciplined, acrobatic manner. They preferred long-range warfare, using projectiles, and were not very efficient hand-to-hand combatants. They overpowered their victims with brute strength and sheer numbers, but  _ this _ particular warrior had obviously trained in unarmed fighting. As Ahsoka ducked the short, rapid swings from the Tusken’s club and evaded surprisingly agile kicks, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity in her opponent’s technique, although she couldn’t quite place it. Perhaps she was imagining things due to the pounding in her head, but the rhythm of their movements as they blocked each other’s strikes and counterattacks felt almost like a routine.

Ahsoka had yet to use her lightsabers to try to cut down the Raider, instead using her gauntlets to parry the blows from his weapon when she couldn’t evade them altogether. He was aggressive as his people were known to be, but silent, with the only sounds he produced coming from his heavy breathing as he exerted himself. She had expected that he would have raised a ruckus by now, as Sand People were as noisy as they were territorial, and she had been told that vocalization during combat was common for them. This one was definitely a strange one, to be sure.

The ex-Jedi dodged another strike and countered with a low sweeping kick, causing the Raider to leap into the air once more to avoid getting his feet knocked out from beneath him. When he landed, Ahsoka felt the sand around her own feet shudder with the heavy impact. Something in the back of her mind niggled at her memory, and she had to struggle to keep her focus on the current battle. She leapt away in a series of backflips to allow herself room to breathe and gather herself. She stared long and hard at the Tusken as he observed her in turn, offering a slight nod in acknowledgement of her prowess. He held the long metal club aloft in his right hand and whirled it languidly before holding it steady at a diagonal slant behind him, pointing downward. He stood facing her at the ready, his left foot forward, aligning his body in the direction he prepared to charge.

Ahsoka sucked in a sharp breath as she at last recognized the stance: the Tusken Raider was a practitioner of Juyo. That should have been impossible, unless of course, this  _ wasn’t _ a real Tusken warrior. Remembering Obi-Wan’s warning – that other adherers to the Dark Side would attempt to take the Sith weapon – the Togruta readied her stance, holding her two lightsabers at her sides in her reversed grip, white blades pointing up behind her to the clear night sky, rivaling the glow of the moons. Her head still pulsed with waves of pain, but she forced herself to push beyond that. At her hips, the halves of the saberstaff seemed to radiate gleefully, as though exhilarated to feel the battling energies of the two combatants. Ahsoka was sure the crystals inside the cursed weapon pieces had much to do with her splitting headache that refused to fade.

She didn’t allow herself any more time to hesitate. Leaning forward, she rushed at her opponent once more, her white robe flapping behind her. The Tusken Raider ran headlong to meet her attack, his club aloft. This time, it was she who leapt into the air at the last possible moment and aimed a kick at the masked face. The Tusken was able to turn his body to the side and avoid a direct hit, although Ahsoka’s boot grazed one of the horn-like protrusions poking out from the strips of fabric and leather. With a growl, the Tusken spun around to face her again and brought his bludgeon up, spinning it as he did so. The former Jedi raised her lightsabers in defense and struck out, intending to cut through the long mace as it rammed towards her face.

She was successful in deflecting the blow, but to her astonishment, her sabers did not slice cleanly through the metal. Instead, she was only able to push back against the attack and in the following instant, her white blades fizzled and crackled before retreating back into their sheaths. Ahsoka was so stunned, she was too late to react as her opponent spun in place and landed a roundhouse kick to her solar plexus. She was thrown back several meters and landed heavily on her back, gasping for breath. She heard the thundering steps again as the Tusken approached her and she rolled over onto her side, struggling to get her bearings before he was upon her. The impact of the fall had been cushioned a bit by the sandy floor, but her rucksack had hitched up behind the back of her skull and crushed her rear lek, sending a shock of pain down her spine and into her brain. The spots in her vision returned and the pounding in her head was almost too much for her to bear. Still gripping her weapons tightly, the weary Togruta threw out a hand and raised two fingers, shoving away from her with the Force in an attempt to keep the Raider from coming any closer, but she wasn’t even sure she was aiming in the correct direction. With relief and satisfaction, she heard the sound of an impact and a grunt as her attacker was knocked back and seemingly landed not-so-gracefully. Ahsoka was glad. She hoped he had slammed against the hard boulders Obi-Wan had used as a partial boundary of sorts at his property’s edge.

No sooner had she barely managed to sit up, however, than the Tusken was sprinting back towards her, seemingly having recovered rapidly from her Force assault. This time the Togruta had no opportunity to push him away again or even defend herself before the Raider was looming over her menacingly. She only just managed to look up at his black silhouette backlit against the moons – those spikes sticking out of the mask looked more and more like a wreath of horns the more she looked at them – before he reached down and grabbed her tightly by the collar of her cloak and roughly hauled her up to her feet. Ahsoka dropped her weapons and grabbed at his forearm with both hands, struggling to wrench his grip off of her, but he held fast. Pulling her towards him, the Tusken brought his masked face close up to hers, peering into her eyes with dark holes that looked like they led to the abyss.

“You should not take things that do not belong to you,” the Tusken Raider said in a low hiss. His Galactic Standard was flawless. Furthermore, there was something chillingly familiar about his voice. Once again, the Togruta tried to organize her muddled thoughts and recognize the humanoid before her, but the bled kyber crystals in the halves of hilt screamed in her head just then, roaring in delight and causing an explosion of pain inside her skull. Ahsoka involuntarily cried out, shutting her eyes tightly and bringing her hands up to clutch at her montrals. Her body went limp and she would have collapsed onto the floor had the Tusken not held her aloft by the fabric of her hooded robe.

She nearly lost consciousness then, but stubbornly clung to the waking world, although she could do nothing to fight off the Tusken warrior. Through the pain, she dazedly felt him hoist her up over his shoulder like a sack of pallies and begin to walk. Ahsoka struggled feebly, but his grip around her waist was like a vice. She vaguely realized he was taking her back inside the hut when she saw the flickering light of the campfire, which still burned merrily, oblivious to the struggle that had just taken place. The Tusken carried her to the alcove and unceremoniously dumped her onto the mattress, taking a seat beside her, in the exact spot where Obi-Wan’s apparition had been less than two hours earlier.

Ahsoka felt him brusquely grab at her belt and realized he was going for the Sith saberstaff pieces still clipped there. In desperation, she took hold of his arm and pulled it towards her, sitting up as she did so. Without thinking, she leaned forward and bit down as hard as she could, sinking her fangs past the layers of fabric and into the flesh beneath. She heard the Tusken roar out a curse in a language she didn’t recognize and in the next instant was nearly blinded by a fresh wave of pain as his other fist made contact against the side of her head. Still, Ahsoka refused to let go, growling like a feral creature and grinding down with her teeth until she tasted the Raider’s blood soaking through his sleeve. The Togruta then felt a surge of dark energy shove her away and she slammed against the rounded wall of the nook. Her suspicions regarding the Tusken’s Force-sensitivity had been confirmed. Snarling, she wrapped her fingers around the cursed weapon segments and unclipped them from her belt, bringing them up to her chest and curling her body around them. She wasn’t sure how powerful this Tusken Raider was, or even how much strength she had left to fight him off, but she knew there was no way she would ever allow the Sith crystals inside to come into his possession. She thought she might have to completely destroy the weapon then and there, even if she lost her life in the process.

The Tusken eyed her from the edge of the bed, as though weighing his options. He was breathing hard, clutching at his wounded arm. Ahsoka noticed with satisfaction that he was bleeding quite profusely. Togrutas had incisors that were extremely sharp, and people on her home world of Shili made good use of them. They were hunters, after all, and before discovering civilization had been quite the ferocious apex predators of the native food chain.

“You certainly can be quite the vicious little thing when you set your mind to it,” the Tusken told her. “Or are the kaiburr already casting their influence over you, I wonder?”

He turned his back to her then, facing the fire and hitching up his sleeve in order to examine his injury better. Ahsoka blinked in confusion. The pounding in her head was so strong by that point, her eyes were watering a bit, and she was beginning to feel nauseous. She couldn’t see straight, much less  _ think. _ But when she tried to focus, she suddenly  _ did _ realize that the weapon pieces in her hands were emitting strong currents of dark Force energy.

“If you mean to destroy that,” the Tusken muttered over his shoulder, ripping strips of fabric from his tunic and wrapping them tightly over the lacerations in his arm, “I should forewarn you that you will fail. The kaiburr are too strong for you, and you will lose your life in the attempt.”

The Togruta straightened up a bit from her curled squat on the mattress and leaned her back against the synstone wall. She still clung to the saberstaff pieces, holding them against her bosom and bringing her knees up to her chin protectively. She was feeling delirious from the pain in her cranium, but she could swear she knew the Tusken’s low timbre from somewhere. As she blinked through the unshed tears blurring her vision, she squinted, staring long and hard at the back of the Tusken Raider’s head. No, those spikes poking up from the mask weren’t part of the filtration mechanism… they  _ were _ horns, made of bone. But that made no sense. None of what was happening made any sense to her. She wondered if the entire thing were a hallucination caused by the crystals. What had the Tusken just called them?  _ Kaiburr. _ Very similar to the common name, with only a slight difference in the pronunciation. She shut her eyes tightly and opened them after a few seconds, hoping the entire thing  _ had _ been a feverish dream, but when she looked, the Tusken Raider was still there, sitting at the edge of the bed with his back turned to her. Ahsoka groaned aloud. The light from the fire was now starting to bother her, worsening the throbbing in her skull, like sticking needles in through her eyes.

“I commend you on remaining conscious for such an extended period,” the Tusken commented. Having finished tending to his wound, he finally turned to look back at her, “but you won’t last much longer. You must release the kaiburr. They are poisoning you.”

She definitely knew his voice. It had tormented her often when she was younger, in the months immediately following Order 66. But it couldn’t be! The stranger before her couldn’t  _ possibly _ be –

“Maul…” she muttered, trying to fight through the haze of pain clouding her mind. Now she  _ knew _ she was most certainly hallucinating. It made sense. After all, she  _ was _ holding  _ his _ weapon. Perhaps the kyber crystals inside  _ were _ having an effect on her, making her imagine him. What she couldn’t discern was why he appeared to her in the garb of the Sand People. Could Sith also return as apparitions to haunt the living? He certainly didn’t  _ look _ translucent the way Obi-Wan had. The pain in her head wasn’t letting her discern between what was real and what was not. She shut her eyes again with a slight whimper.

She felt movement on the bed and opened her eyes to see the Tusken Raider – if that is what he was, if he was there at all – move towards her. She knew he would try to take the broken hilt pieces again, and she bared her teeth at him, which made him pause.

“If you try to bite me again, I will knock your teeth out of your stupid skull,” he growled menacingly.

Yeah, the blood in her mouth tasted real, so there was that. How fake could he be, if she could wound him? That didn’t mean he was really who he reminded her of. Obi-Wan had told her he’d killed the disgraced Sith Lord. Wasn’t the fact that she found the split saberstaff in the Jedi Master’s home proof enough that Maul was dead? The Tusken also hadn’t claimed to be the Zabrak Nightbrother. If only her skull didn’t feel like it was about to burst. All Ahsoka could do was tighten her grip on the hilt pieces and glare.

Keeping the empty gaze of his mask fixated on her, the Raider slowly extended his bandaged arm out towards her, gloved hand outstretched and palm facing up. A gesture that under normal circumstances, could be interpreted as a benign request, but coming from him felt like a demand. Ahsoka didn’t flinch.

“It would be in your best interest if you handed that to me now,” the Tusken said, the deep velvet of his voice setting her on edge. The tenor and cadence of his speech was identical to that of the fallen Sith apprentice she had faced off against in the past.

Ahsoka pushed past the aching in her head and the unease in her chest and sneered. “In  _ your _ best interest, maybe,” she said. “Not mine.”

“Give me the weapon.”

“Why do you want it?”

“It belongs to me.”

Ahsoka pressed her lips into a thin line, silent. So, he had finally admitted his true identity. She didn’t want to believe him. Still, nothing else seemed as plausible.

“This blade belonged to the Emperor’s first apprentice,” the Togruta stated instead. “One who Palpatine deemed so unworthy, he was cast aside soon after the Sith revealed themselves to the Jedi and the Republic. Is this who you claim to be?”

The Tusken growled deeply. Ahsoka wondered what contortions of rage were going on beneath that mask. Somehow, having the sound emit from such an expressionless guise made it all the more dreadful.

“Sidious was no longer my master when I crafted that lightsaber,” the Raider replied tersely. “And as far as worth goes, it was  _ he _ who was brought down by a boy – a farmer’s child – with no real training. Now, my patience with you is wearing thin. Give me back what is mine.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ahsoka replied flatly, glaring at the Tusken Raider before her with weary eyes. “You are not Maul. Obi-Wan killed him.”

“Oh, is that how you believe he came across that weapon?”

“He told me so himself!”

The Tusken chuckled mirthlessly. “He lied to you,” he said.

“Prove it,” the Togruta hissed. “Take that mask off, you coward!”

“You are in no position to make demands, Lady Tano,” the Tusken said, his use of her name making bitter memories resurface in her psyche, “but as a token of goodwill, I will humor your request.”

“You’ll show me your face?”

The Raider shook his head, tut-tutting. “Ah, no,” he replied. “The Sand People of these parts would consider it a great offense, to uncover oneself in front of another. It is quite the taboo in their culture.”

“If you’re really Maul, offending others wouldn’t bother you. It also goes without saying that Maul was a Zabrak, and they have no exaggerated sense of modesty.”

“True,” the masked individual admitted. “However, it’s quite the pain in the ass to put this mask back on once I’ve removed it. It’s difficult to get all my horns to go through the correct holes in the first try.” The Tusken brought a leg up onto the bed, getting himself comfortable. Ahsoka noticed that they were, in fact, cybernetic prosthetics, which explained the heavy footsteps on the hard-packed sandy ground. She got the impression that he was enjoying the conversation a bit  _ too _ much. Perhaps he hadn’t spoken to another person in quite a while, but she was in no mood to make small talk. She was about to tell him as much when the Tusken added, almost as an off-handed remark, “5597.”

“What?” Ahsoka blinked, utterly confused.

“5597,” the supposed former Sith replied, enunciating each number slowly. “That was the number designation of the clone trooper I captured back on Mandalore who first gave me intel on you.”

Jesse. He was talking about Jesse. Remembering the Siege made a shudder go down the Togruta’s spine and the pulsing in her head intensified uncomfortably.

“He originally refused to give me any information willingly, but through the Force… all things are possible.”

Ahsoka ground her teeth at the thought of the torture Maul had likely put Jesse through. She could still remember the shame in the clone lieutenant’s eyes when he had been returned to her and Rex. That was the last time she had seen the trooper as his true self, before the initiative was activated which stripped her friends of their free will. She knew scrying was a Force technique not exclusive to the Sith, but one that other sects of Force users were reluctant to utilize. Could the Tusken have used the technique on her just now? Somehow she doubted it, as she hadn’t felt the intrusion (although the pain in her head could have masked the sensation), but more importantly, the Siege of Mandalore hadn’t been at the forefront of her thoughts in that moment. Could this masked Raider  _ really _ be the Dathomirian Nightbrother in disguise…?

“He cared deeply for the other clones, whom he deemed siblings,” the Tusken continued, tilting his head back slightly as though enjoying recalling the memory, “but was especially close to Clone 6116, a medic, if I recall correctly. He was very troubled and saddened by his disappearance during the war, as his body was never recovered. He thought of him every day, and even as I ripped his mind apart, he held on to the memory of his favorite brother. Now, how would I know this,” he asked her pointedly, “unless I was, in fact, the person who interrogated him? This was information not even  _ you _ were privy to.”

Ahsoka inhaled hard – a pained gasp. She was trembling; having heard the words brought back a barrage of memories of her old friends. Kix had been the medic the Raider referred to, the one who had apparently occupied Jesse’s thoughts for so long. Both clones had been her friends during the war, with Kix taking an instant liking to her when, as a young brash Padawan, she had nonetheless shown a curiosity and eagerness to learn first aid. He had taught her much of what she knew. And Jesse… he had always had such a lighthearted sense of humor, teasing her mildly when they served on missions together, and trying to ease the mood with his jokes. She missed them, and so many others, terribly. They had become her family just as much as the Jedi had, and the deaths of all of them were made all the more tragic by the circumstances that brought them about. She didn’t even realize she was crying silently until the tears splattered down onto her chest, soaking into the fabric of her white robe.

“Even after all these years…” the masked figure before her mused, “even though they tried to murder you without a second thought, you  _ still _ mourn for them.” He paused and leaned forward on the bed, keeping his obscured stare directed towards her. “Jedi are so  _ weak,” _ he whispered, disgust dripping from his voice like venom. “It is no wonder the entire Order was so easily dismantled and eradicated by a single Sith Lord!”

The Togruta’s eyes widened in shock. His words stung more than the wallop he had given her to the side of her head. Fueled by a sudden surge of indignant rage, Ahsoka brought her knees underneath her body and lunged forward with an angry shriek, dropping the halves of the saberstaff at her side, her hands outstretched and aiming for the Raider’s throat. Too late, she realized that had been his plan all along, for he easily shoved her back with the Force and pinned her against the wall while with his other hand, he summoned the pieces of hilt to him.

The moment he grabbed them, the masked figure was on his feet, standing triumphantly beside the campfire. He released his Force hold on her, and Ahsoka collapsed onto the mattress, dismayed. The self-proclaimed Nightbrother inhaled deeply, and as he did so, the Togruta felt all of the dark energy in the room – that coming from the bled kyber crystals, the one produced by her own ire – begin to drain away. It was all gathering to  _ him, _ as though he were absorbing it all into the core of his being. She could feel it gather powerfully within him: an evil, toxic thing that seemed to writhe all around him and through him. Never before had she witnessed something like it. The only good thing to come about it was that her headache was finally gone, and she could see and reason clearly. She stared at him, mouth slightly agape, as she sensed him wrestle with the darkness twisting itself around him. In the deep recesses of the eyeholes of his mask, Ahsoka could see a sickly green glow and she was shocked to see wisps of green vapor begin to emanate from his body.

The entire time, he gripped at the pieces of broken weapon closely against his chest, and Ahsoka could see that the metal components of the hilt were becoming red-hot. They smoked and sizzled against his gloved hands, and the former Jedi Padawan glanced down at her palms to find char marks on her own gloves. It was no wonder she had felt her hands burn! He was fighting the crystals in the weapon, attempting to subjugate them to his will, as she had done before. However, there was a vast difference between what she had done, and what this individual was attempting to do. His was definitely a battle to enforce his will, to bend the crystals to his command. It made Ahsoka feel sick, and she suddenly wished she had her own blades at her side. Where had she left them? If she was not mistaken, they were currently outside the hut, laying on the sand where she had dropped them. That fight seemed an eternity ago, although not one full hour had passed since.

In the end, the masked warrior won over the kyber crystals inside the broken pieces. Ahsoka could sense the bled quartzes submit and then embrace his dark influence over them. Throwing back his head and splaying his arms out at his sides, the Tusken let out a howling Force scream that shook the entire room, making items rattle in place and ringing for several seconds in the Togruta’s montrals, discombobulating her momentarily.

Now that he had the power of the shattered weapon at his disposal, Ahsoka’s sense of dread grew in her breast. She figured that he couldn’t ignite the sections of hilt and use them to cut her down, but Obi-Wan had warned her that this was not where their true danger lay. She didn’t know how, but Ahsoka knew she couldn’t let him keep those cursed kyber crystals in his possession, and the longer he held on to them, the more difficult it would be for her to wrest them from him. Unsure of what else to do, the Togruta removed the satchel carrying her tools from her back and flung them by the straps, aiming for the Tusken Raider’s horned head. He lifted an arm and deflected the rucksack easily, but that moment was all Ahsoka needed.

She instantly lunged at him again, ramming into his midsection headfirst, digging her montrals into his side and bowling him over. The two fell and landed in the small bonfire: he with his face in the flames and the Togruta atop his back. Ahsoka quickly scrambled up to her feet before her cloak was set ablaze. As her opponent also stood, swearing and trying to put out the flames in his garments and mask by patting himself down with his fists (he had refused to let go of the hilt pieces), Ahsoka yanked at the cycler rifle strapped to his back. Still cursing aloud, he tried to elbow her off of him, but the ex-Jedi yanked the firearm quickly upwards and then down, allowing for the rifle to instantly come loose. This had been a trick taught to her by another of her clone friends, the Clone Commander, Rex. Blasters came about in all forms, he had told her long ago, but most holsters worked in the same way. She fumbled with the trigger as the Tusken turned on her with a furious growl, his arm already pulled back and his fist at the ready. Before he could do anything more, Ahsoka jabbed the barrel of the rifle to her enemy’s chest and fired.

Cycler rifles were crudely made firearms, ejecting solid projectiles rather than the sophisticated plasma bolts of most blasters. Still, they could be powerful, being especially effective in bypassing energy shields. The recoil this one made almost knocked Ahsoka off her feet, and the shot threw the Tusken back several meters. He remained eerily still when he landed, a scarlet pool of blood blooming on the ragged clothes at his xiphoid area. Shakily, the Togruta lowered the gun, gasping for breath. She didn’t want to go over to him, but knew she had no choice. She needed to retrieve the saberstaff pieces.

She had taken but a few steps towards the figure on the ground when he began to move feebly. Ahsoka almost groaned out loud; she had really been hoping she had managed to kill her opponent in one go. The last thing she wanted was to render first aid. The last thing she needed was to feel guilty if she didn’t. Keeping the firearm aimed at her wounded foe, the Togruta cautiously approached him. How could anyone survive a shot like that at point-blank range?

The Tusken Raider was a real mess. His ragged tunic was singed, and pieces of his mask were falling off his face in charred strips, exposing almost half of his head. One of the cylindrical lenses had come loose along with the bits of leather and cloth, and an eye with a golden iris wreathed in a fiery red halo glared up at her defiantly. The exposed skin around this eye was as crimson as blood with striking black markings making surreal patterns over the face. There was no longer any use in denying things: Ahsoka was looking into the face of Sidious’s former apprentice. The Sith Lord, Darth Maul.

The Togruta knelt beside him, placing the cycler rifle carefully beside her, away from his reach. The events this night had not gone the way she had hoped. She didn’t know what Maul was doing on Tatooine, what he was even doing  _ alive, _ since Obi-Wan had assured her he was already dead. If she had known he was still loose on the planet, she may just have risked returning to Mos Eisley during the night. She chanced a look at the Zabrak’s chest and winced: there was a fist-sized gaping hole at the base of his sternum and the blood that had instantly begun to gush out of the wound was now soaking the tunic beyond his chest area to his abdomen. He didn’t have much time left. Ahsoka shook her head, at a loss. How tragic, she thought, that what had once begun in a civilized – albeit tense – conversation years ago on Mandalore would end in blood and death. She almost pitied the dying figure before her just then. Even knowing that there was nothing she could do, the Togruta reached out a hand to place it on his chest.

Maul, however, seemed to have other plans. Brusquely, and with a strength Ahsoka couldn’t foresee him still having, the Dathomirian shoved her hand away with his fist still gripping half of his old weapon. He brought his arm up to his chest then and muttering something in a tongue Ahsoka had never heard before, closed his eyes and pushed his fist into the gaping hole.

Ahsoka recoiled, bringing her hand up to her mouth to stifle out a distressed shout. What was he  _ doing‽ _ Maul grunted in pain but gnashed his teeth and kept up his strange ramblings. By the cadence of it, Ahsoka figured it was some type of mantra or spell. Perhaps ancient Sith magic? Or something he had learned from the Nightsisters? In either case, the sight of him digging into his own wound made the Togruta retch. She bit down on her knuckles to keep herself from vomiting, but she stared on, unable to look away.

Amazingly, impossibly, the flow of blood began to ebb and clot. She would have thought the bleeding had staunched itself because he had essentially bled out, were it not for the fact that he still remained quite lucid. The darkness she had sensed surrounding the Zabrak seemed to have thickened its presence around him, congregating around his xiphoid. It was as though he were using the Dark Side to alter his physical state, halt his body’s physiological response to what should have been a fatal injury. It wasn’t a true healing of himself, but rather a suspension of sorts. His breath remained a gasping death rattle, and Ahsoka could hear the blood gurgling in his lungs. In fact, occasionally some of it dribbled out of the filter apparatus of his mask. But death never took him, so long as he kept up his eerie chant. The former Padawan wasn’t sure of what to do. It might be the wisest thing – the easiest, too – to end him with another slug from the cycler rifle to the head. That was probably the most merciful option as well, she told herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to be so cold-blooded. When she had shot him, she had been acting on desperation more so than calculated planning, and now seeing her enemy clinging on to life, such as it was for him now, wouldn’t allow her to even consider killing him, Sith or no.

Instead, she undid the ties on her hooded cloak and removed it. Balling it up roughly, she leaned over the disguised Zabrak and lifted his head with one hand. She quickly stuffed the fabric beneath the base of his skull and neck with the other, propping him up a bit and allowing him to breathe easier. In return, she received a glare of deep loathing from the Dathomirian, but at least the horrid burbling of his lungs stopped. He didn’t make a single lapse in his strange cadence.

The Togruta considered moving him onto the bed using the Force but wasn’t sure if it would interfere with whatever he was doing to himself. She decided to leave him there on the ground and returned to the fire, taking the rifle with her. The flames had died down a great deal from the two of them having rolled over onto it and the campfire was little more than glowing embers by that point. Ahsoka pushed the smoldering chunks of the wooden chest back together carefully with her boot, again not using the Force out of concern over what effect it would have on the Zabrak. She then took some spare pieces of the wooden crate which she had set aside to feed the dying flames and soon had the bonfire crackling brightly once more.

After this, Ahsoka sat down heavily on the bed and considered her options. On the one hand, she had to face the reality that she was dealing with way more than she had bargained for when she set out on her mission. Instead of retrieving a Sith artifact, she now had to deal with an actual Sith as well, and she couldn’t possibly leave him on Tatooine.  _ If  _ he survived the night, of course. He was dangerous to be unaccounted for, could not be allowed to roam free. Why,  _ why _ had Obi-Wan told her that Maul was dead? Why would he keep the truth from her?

As she went over her conversation with the Jedi Master’s apparition in her mind, Ahsoka realized Obi-Wan never actually told her that he’d  _ killed _ the Zabrak. His exact words had been,  _ “The Sith that was Darth Maul is dead.” _ In truth, it had been the Togruta who had assumed their meaning as being quite literal. She silently chided herself. After all, she had known Obi-Wan since she had first become Anakin’s Padawan, back during the Battle of Christophsis. The Jedi Master had always had a fondness for speaking in riddles, as he felt the lesson his words imparted was more impactful and the knowledge retained better if one had to figure out the true meaning rather than told directly. This Ahsoka had learned of over the years of fighting alongside him and her master, as the two Jedi generals often worked closely together. In fact, when speaking to his former student, Master Kenobi often fondly referred to Ahsoka as  _ our Padawan, _ acknowledging that he was as much her teacher as Anakin was. She should have known better than to take his words at face value, rather than attempt to decipher a deeper meaning.

Which begged the question: what  _ did _ his cryptic message truly mean? It was obvious that the Sith Zabrak was alive still (for how long had yet to be seen). Did Obi-Wan mean that Maul was no longer a Sith Lord? Not in the true essence of the word, she supposed, having been stripped of the title when Count Dooku replaced him. The last time she had come across the Zabrak on Malachor, he was adamant on destroying his former master and everything he had created, but he  _ had _ been delving deeper into Sith knowledge, attempting to take that dark power unto himself. And from what she had just witnessed, he was by no means redeemed. Quite the contrary: now more than ever before, she sensed him steeped deeper into the Dark Side than at any other of their encounters, terrifying and repulsive to behold.

Ahsoka recalled how, several times during their conversation, Obi-Wan had insisted that there was more than one way for darkness to return to the galaxy, something that could prove just as hideous as the Sith. Is that what she had witnessed just now? It certainly seemed that way to her. The thought of Maul – or anyone else, for that matter – ascending beyond the restraints of the moniker of Sith Lord and transforming into something  _ worse _ was beyond her imagination’s capacity. The closest thing she could think of was the Son, member of the beings known only as the Ones who had been the embodiment of the Dark Side. Remembering the atrocities that individual had been capable of committing with the immense power he wielded made the Togruta shudder. The galaxy certainly didn’t need any other to rise to such a level of darkness and evil. And yet… she had already determined that she would not kill the Nightbrother, whether he deserved it or not. Aside from feeling incapable of callously taking the life of a downed opponent, Ahsoka was beginning to understand that Obi-Wan had had ulterior motives for sending her to Tatooine. Perhaps due to her history with the Dathomirian, the Jedi Master had surmised that she would be able to draw him out of hiding by her very presence. Had he meant for her to confront him? If so, to what end? She wished Master Kenobi would show himself to her again so she could get a direct answer from him this time, but she doubted it would happen anytime soon. The dark aura surrounding the Zabrak was seeping into every crevice in the building – it was more an oppressive feeling in the room than something actually visible – and she doubted if a being of the Light, as Obi-Wan surely had become, would be able to penetrate through it.

Heaving a tired sigh, the Togruta rose to her feet. She decided Maul was too hapless to do much in his current state, but she wanted her weapons back, nonetheless. Remembering how the blades had fizzled out on their own worried her, and she wanted to examine them. She took the Tusken rifle with her and stepped outside, the brisk night air keeping her alert. By the light of the moons, she was able to not only find her two sabers easily in the sand where she had dropped them, but also the spiked mace Maul had been swinging around at her. That, too, had apparently been dropped during the battle, with the Zabrak seemingly not caring to recover it.

Ahsoka first picked up her weapons and tried igniting the blades once more. Both hilts hummed and instantly emitted their white blades of light with not so much as a crackle of static. So, there wasn’t a malfunction in the hilt mechanism. Switching off her lightsabers and clipping the hilts to her belt, she approached the crude bludgeon and cautiously picked it up, remembering all too well the burning she’d felt in her hands upon touching the Sith’s other weapon.

But no, this seemed to be an ordinary club, rudimentary in design, with very few embellishments. The only thing that could make it stand out was that it was made fully out of metal, rather than being carved out of wood and bone, as she had been led to believe all Tusken crafted their weapons. By all means, her lightsabers should have still been able to cut through the thing easily. With a frown, the former Padawan walked back inside the hut with the weapon in tow, figuring she would be able to study its features more clearly by the light of the fire. She kept the cycler rifle in her other hand, and from the moment she reentered the hut, lifted and aimed it in the fallen Zabrak’s general direction, just in case.

She could see him still lying on the ground where she’d left him but could no longer hear his mutterings. The Togruta gulped. Had he died while she was outside? No, she could hear him breathing, slow and steady, though still a bit shallow. Leaving both Tusken weapons on the bed, Ahsoka began rummaging through the broken junk on the floor, at last finding her discarded satchel. Digging through it, she fished out her utility vibroblade. The amount of times this tool came in handy never ceased to amaze her. On this trip alone, it had become almost as invaluable as her lightsabers. She found the black melons on the floor beside the bed, still untouched. Grabbing the smallest one, she walked over slowly to the wounded Dathomirian. His exposed eye was closed, but he opened it the instant he felt her approach. He looked feverish and exhausted.

He said nothing but eyed her warily as she squatted beside him and set the melon down at her side. Ahsoka ignored the look and ran the pad of her thumb down the grip of her pocketknife in a particular downward zigzag pattern, producing the scissors from within the handle. She leaned over him and began to snip away the ruined strips that made up his mask, being careful not to rupture the delicate filtration hoses that ran underneath the material. She wasn’t too keen on the notion of helping him at all but knew her conscience wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise. She kept thinking over Obi-Wan’s words to her as she worked, her brow furrowed in concern. She still couldn’t understand what the Jedi Master’s intent had been in keeping her in the dark regarding Maul. How long had the Zabrak been on Tatooine? Had he just recently returned, or had he been wandering the Jundland Wastes since he arrived years before, following Ezra? Ahsoka glanced over to the Dathomirian’s legs and noticed that some of the wiring was exposed in places, and Maul had arranged a patchwork of leather strips to wrap around the joints in order to keep the sand out of the mechanisms. His clothes were very worn and frayed, bleached by the suns, and beneath the scent of fresh blood, the Togruta could smell the slightly sour musk of the Nightbrother’s sweat penetrated into the fabric. Ahsoka wrinkled her nose. It certainly didn’t appear that he had been living anywhere that had access to regular showers, anyway.

She was mildly surprised that the Zabrak didn’t put up a fight this time around. However, she supposed that had to do with the amount of blood he’d lost. Once she’d fully exposed his face, she removed the humidifying canteen from around his neck, taking the filtration mechanism off from over his mouth as well. Without a word, she took one corner of the bundled cloak from beneath his head and used it to wipe away the blood and spittle from around the Dathomirian’s chin.

“If you are expecting gratitude…” the Zabrak warned hoarsely.

“I’m not,” Ahsoka snapped.  _ “You’d _ better not be expecting an apology, because you’re not going to get one.”

“That’s a relief,” Maul replied, baring rancid, bloodied teeth.

“I’m surprised you can talk, given your condition,” the ex-Jedi said, looking down at the Zabrak with open curiosity. “You should be dead.” Then she added, mostly to herself, “Twice over now.”

“That would’ve pleased you, I’ll bet,” the Zabrak mused, but for once, there was no hostility behind his words. He just sounded tired.

Ahsoka merely grunted in reply, unable to fully deny that. She wanted to ask him questions about his presence on the desert planet as well as what he had just done to himself, but she didn’t think he would cooperate. Instead, she reached for his fists, still pressed up against his chest, clutching the two segments of his weapon. His grip on them tightened immediately, and just as she had done before, he snarled at her in a threatening manner.

“Relax,” the Togruta muttered with a roll of her eyes and a slight shake of her head. “I’m not interested in taking back your weapon… for now. I just need to check your wound.”

“Leave it,” Maul growled, “there is nothing  _ you _ can do.”

Ahsoka frowned and made to get up from her crouch but thought it over and knelt beside him instead, settling herself on the ground. “I’ll see what I can do anyway,” she stated resolutely, lifting her shears. She was relieved to find that when she reached for his hands again, the Zabrak didn’t fight her off.

“Feeling guilty?” he asked mockingly, closing his eyes.

“The only regret I have right now is that I didn’t aim a little higher,” the Togruta replied irately as she used the vibroblade scissors to cut through the thick leather ammunition harness that ran diagonally across the Dathomirian’s chest. She made sure to avoid the projectile cartridges, unsure if the heat caused by the activation of the tool’s ultrasonic vibration generator would cause them to detonate.

To her surprise, the Zabrak chuckled softly. The effort made him cough a bit, and a trickle of bloodied saliva began to drip out of the corner of his mouth. Absentmindedly, Ahsoka reached over to wipe it away with the cloth of her balled-up cloak. “Aiming for the center of my chest would have still failed to kill me,” Maul said, barely audible now. His strength seemed to be waning. “You would have been unable to hit both hearts. In either case, I’ve survived worse.”

“I meant to say that I should’ve shot at your head,” Ahsoka glowered, letting the leather harness fall off her wounded opponent’s torso. “Would you have been able to survive  _ that?” _

This time, the Zabrak made no reply, and when the former Jedi looked up at his face, she noticed that his features were going slack, as though he were fading out of consciousness. As he did so, the gaping wound in his chest began to bleed again. Startled, Ahsoka grabbed at his shoulder, and Maul’s eyes snapped open immediately. Gritting his teeth, the Nightbrother began to mutter once more, and the bleeding stopped. Ahsoka regarded him uneasily.

“You can’t keep that up for much longer,” she told him once he’d ceased his strange cantillation. “You need medical attention.”

“I will be fine,” Maul grumbled, “eventually.”

The Togruta sat back on her heels with a sigh, looking down at the Dark Side user, both perplexed and worried. “Is this how you survived Naboo?” she finally asked with a frown. The notion had popped into her mind since she witnessed the strange ritual.

Maul’s eyes met hers and for a moment, both were silent. “Naboo was worse,” he finally said. Ahsoka could tell by the finality of his tone that he would not speak any more of it.

Rather than press him further on the subject, the former Padawan took to cutting away his tunic with her scissors, exposing the gaping wound in his sternum. It was pretty bad: she could see bits of shrapnel from the projectile embedded in the flesh and part of his bone was visible. She didn’t want to imagine what it must have been like for him to lose half of his entire body, but she somehow doubted that could have possibly been worse than this. Obi-Wan had told her of how he had sliced the former Sith apprentice in half during their first duel, and for all the complications that must’ve caused for the Zabrak, at least lightsaber cuts were clean, and the heat from the blade would often instantly cauterize wounds. If death came, it was nearly instantaneous, with the body going into shock.  _ This, _ on the other hand, was messy and gory, and likely prone to infection. If Maul died from this injury, it would be a slow and agonizing process.

The Togruta looked about herself for something to clean at the gunshot wound but found nothing suitable. Her white cloak was out of the question, for it was what was keeping the Zabrak’s head propped up so he wouldn’t go back to choking on his own blood, and furthermore, it was now stained by his various body fluids and dirt. It was her traveling garment, which meant it hadn’t been sanitary to use for first aid to begin with; now it was beyond use for such things and absolutely ruined. Maul’s tunic wasn’t in much better shape, but she had to use  _ something. _

“I’m going to have to rip one of your sleeves off,” she informed him, taking ahold of the arm closest to her.

“I’ve already told you,  _ leave it be,” _ the Zabrak hissed, stiffening. “You will make the damn hole bleed again if you mess with it.”

“You’ve got your bleeding under control, don’t you?” Ahsoka asked with a smirk. “Can’t be worse than Naboo, right?”

Maul growled at her, but that only started him coughing again, and Ahsoka instantly took to wiping down his face with her stained robe, a bit sorry that she had antagonized him while he could be in his throes of death.  _ Obi-Wan would have never stooped so low, _ she scolded herself.  _ Anakin, on the other hand… _ She supposed she  _ was _ both their Padawan after all: she had taken after both of them. At the moment, that meant she was undecided as to which stance to take regarding the Dathomirian Sith. She was aiding him the way she knew Master Kenobi would have, but she was being resentful and a bit spiteful about it, which made her sarcastic, exactly as Skyguy would have been. And where had that bitterness led Anakin? Maul wasn’t the only one who Obi-Wan had had to duel to the death. When she had first encountered the ghostly apparition of the deceased Jedi Master, Ahsoka had questioned him about Anakin’s turn to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan had confirmed that it had been he who rendered his former student into requiring the mechanical armored life suit that kept him alive. Ahsoka couldn’t let her own negative emotions lead her down a similar path.

She was purposefully more mindful of both her actions and her thoughts as she quietly snipped off Maul’s sleeve at the shoulder. She then cut the fabric into two squares and used one to gently wipe away the clotted blood from around the wound, keeping the Zabrak’s words in mind and not prodding directly at the hole. The Dathomirian glared at her sullenly the entire time, his jaw clenched in pain, but remaining quiet. Once done, she picked up the black melon at her side and brought it up to her face, tapping the side with the handle of her utility vibroblade. It was definitely the greenest one, the hard outer shell not yet showing the cracks that meant they were ready for harvesting. She had purposefully grabbed one that wasn’t ripe yet when she picked the others earlier in the evening. Anakin had detested Sand People – Tatooine in general, really – and usually refused to talk about anything relating to his home planet at all. However, he once grudgingly admitted to her that black melons were both delicious and useful. His mother, he had told her, had liked them quite a bit, although not many other sentients did, except for the Tuskens. If not collected at the right time of day, the milk inside instantly soured and tasted horrible. Sand People liked the rotten flavor and became greatly insulted when other sentients didn’t show the same appreciation. His mother had taught him, he had confided, that black melons were best harvested in the twilit hours just before the second sun rose or set. This allowed the milk inside to remain bland and creamy, with just a slight bittersweet aftertaste. Sand People considered this a waste of a good melon and were highly aggressive to whoever they saw trying to harvest the wild gourds growing in the desert. More importantly, however, Anakin had told his Padawan that when the fruit was still green, the fibrous flesh within had antibacterial and curative properties, and was often used as medicine for all sorts of ailments as well as to neutralize toxins. His mother would make a porridge out of unripe black melon flesh which she would sweeten with pallie puree and give to him slathered over haroun bread whenever he was ill. Anakin said it was the best tasting medicine in the galaxy. Having taken that into account, the Togruta had picked one of the young fruits in case she found herself needing a quick home remedy. At the time, she had been thinking of something to treat bites from the notorious blood-ants which tended to build their sand towers against more solid objects such as boulders, dead trees or abandoned buildings. She wasn’t sure what help it would be to a gunshot wound, especially one as bad as the one she’d inflicted on Maul, but it was all she had on hand.

Flicking the scissors back inside the handle, the Togruta then activated the grip by sliding her thumb in a different sequence than before, and a marlinspike protruded this time. Keeping the ultrasonic vibration generator activated, Ahsoka used the tool to stab into the thick husk of the green melon easily, then set it down beside her. She grabbed the second square of fabric from her lap and tilted the gourd onto it, letting the milk soak the rag completely. She then folded up the cloth and placed it at the base of the Zabrak’s chest, covering the hole. He winced uncomfortably and muttered, “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“More or less,” Ahsoka replied, taking up her utility vibroblade again and rotating the spike out for a small saw. She cut the melon in half quickly before switching over to the chisel tool and began scraping the flesh from the shell. The strips of fruit that came loose from the tough casing were oozing with thick milk and Ahsoka held a bit out towards the Dathomirian’s mouth. He squinted at her and defiantly pressed his lips together tightly. “Oh, come on!” she exclaimed, annoyed. “This won’t kill you! If I’d wanted to do that, I would have saved myself all this hassle and just shot you a second time!”

Maul glared at her for a moment before saying rigidly, doing his best not to open his mouth too much, “I only eat that shit when I have no other choice.”

“Well, guess what?” Ahsoka said, raising an eye ridge. “You have no other choice.” Leaning forward, she slid her other hand beneath his skull and propped him up a bit more, pushing the chunk of fruit up against his lips. “This one’s green. It shouldn’t have too strong of a flavor, and it has medicinal properties. In any case, it can’t taste as bad as all that blood and bile in your mouth.”

Thankfully, Maul obliged her, keeping his eyes fixated on her as he quietly chewed and swallowed. Ahsoka could tell from his expression that it hadn’t been as terrible as he’d expected. She grinned with satisfaction, then dug into the melon rind with her chisel to take several more strips. These she placed directly onto the Zabrak’s xiphisternum after removing the wet piece of fabric. Once done, she replaced the cloth and took hold of the Dark Side user’s arm, placing it back over his chest. “Hold this in place here,” she instructed, returning her attention to carving the melon.

“I’ve been on this dust ball of a planet for years now,” the Nightbrother said with a scowl, but not resisting when Ahsoka pushed another piece of fruit into his mouth. “No one has ever mentioned these things being used as medicine of any kind, not even the Tusken clans. What makes you an expert, Lady Tano? I wasn’t aware of these growing on Shili.”

“They don’t,” the Togruta replied quickly, looking down at the gourd in her hand. “My master taught me about them. He was native to this place.” In truth, Ahsoka wasn’t sure why she had divulged the information to the Zabrak, and she squirmed in place uncomfortably at having done so. On the floor, Maul sneered.

“Ah, yes, I remember Skywalker. I was on this planet as well, when the Jedi took him from Mos Espa.” After a pause, the Dathomirian added ruefully, “I should have cut him down then when he was still a brat instead of going after the Jedi that accompanied him.”

Angrily, Ahsoka shoved another piece of melon into the Zabrak’s mouth. “You don’t get to utter Anakin’s name,  _ ever,” _ she growled. She put what was left of the fruit on the ground beside her and turned off her vibroblade, flipping the chisel back into the grip and slipping it into one of the pouches on her belt. Then she stood, wiping her fingers on her pants. “I hope you choke on that,” she muttered down at the wounded Sith, turning on her heel and walking back towards the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Maul kick the bucket? (He can't; he's too weak to kick anything right now.)


	3. The Wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very dangerous game begins...

Ahsoka took both Tusken weapons still on the mattress and put them on the floor beside the other melons, her satchel, and the durasteel coffer she had discarded before. Peeling back the cover to expose the dried grass beneath, the Togruta examined the worn leather material. It was old, but thick and still usable. She removed it from the bed completely and shook it out, scattering bits of hay and more of the brown beetles she had seen earlier. She rolled it up roughly and headed back to the wounded Zabrak on the ground.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she began flatly, settling down beside him once more.

 _“We_ are doing nothing,” the Dathomirian interjected with a scowl. “If you are wise – although granted, you have shown to be anything _but_ so far – you will leave this desolate wasteland and forget any of this ever happened. As for the saberstaff, it remains with me.”

Ahsoka smirked. “You are in no position to make demands,” she said dismissively, repeating his words back to him, “but as a token of goodwill, I will humor your request.”

The Zabrak remained silent, glaring at her. Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Come on, this is the part where you ask me if I’m leaving after all.”

“I’m not doing this.”

“I _am_ leaving Tatooine, by the way,” Ahsoka said with a lopsided smile, leaning forward a bit. “And I’m taking you with me.”

Maul growled, his tattooed features looking particularly dangerous in the distant glow of the bonfire. “What makes you think I’ll cooperate?”

“What makes you think I’m giving you a choice?” After a moment of tense silence, Ahsoka shrugged and explained, “I came here to obtain a powerful Sith artifact at the behest of a good friend of mine. I’m not leaving without it.”

“The farm boy sent you,” the Zabrak stated, his frown deepening. “The _other_ Skywalker.”

The Togruta ignored him and continued, “I didn’t expect it to have such a negative effect on me, although I suppose I should have. I’m not sure what you did to that hilt before I shot you, but you’ve obviously made the kyber crystals inside submit to your will. It took all of my abilities just to be able to handle them briefly. If I kill you, or allow you to die, chances are those crystals are going to begin affecting me again. With me so far?”

“You’ve explained your reasoning for keeping me alive, at least,” the Dathomirian said. “I am glad to know you had ulterior motives and were not acting by some tedious sense of honor you Jedi seem fond of carrying around.”

“Your master made sure there was no place for honor in the galaxy after Order 66 was enacted,” the Togruta said gravely, her tone low and threatening, “and you can bet your ball bearings I fight dirty when I have to.”

“Point well taken,” Maul replied. He didn’t look the least bit upset by her words but rather curious, his features becoming more animated, like a predator suddenly alerted to potential prey. Ahsoka stared him down. _Unfortunately for you,_ she thought, _Togrutas are predators, too._

 _“You,_ on the other hand, not only seem comfortable dominating those kyber crystals, but appear to be using their power to keep yourself alive. I’m not even sure I want to know how. Whatever you’re doing, it’s keeping them from infecting me with Dark Side energy because they’re focused completely on you. Yet in your current state, you need to use all _your_ skills just to keep your body from falling apart. Regardless of what you say, if I were to leave you behind, this wound _will_ kill you in time. _I_ may not care whether you live or die – other than needing you to control those crystals – but _you_ seem pretty keen on living. So, as I started to say, this is what we’re going to do: you will come back with me to Mos Eisley, and then we’re taking my ship back to the Core. There, I will hand you over to the New Republic authorities and they can decide what to do with you. Whatever they choose is fine by me. Hopefully, it involves you being locked away somewhere dank for a long, long time.”

“I can refuse,” the Zabrak countered, “attempt a last-minute attack which would force you to kill me.”

“Or you can play along for now, which is what I think you’ll do,” Ahsoka replied, her voice becoming almost pleasant. “You know that my shuttle is likely equipped with better medical equipment than you’d ever find in Mos Eisley. If you come along quietly, you can get that wound treated, and you won’t have to exert yourself anymore just to stay alive. Then – who knows? – you may just be able to overpower me and take my ship.” The Togruta grinned down at the Dathomirian, revealing her pointy canines. “Come on, Maul, what do you say? Take the gamble. Let’s try to outsmart each other, see who ends up victorious. It’ll be like old times.”

Ahsoka could see that her words had gotten to the Zabrak. His eyes gleamed in the firelight as he studied her face, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smirk of his own. “You may still get the chance to kill me,” she added casually, baiting him on further. “Are you going to pass up an opportunity like that?”

The former Sith apprentice broke out into a full grin, unable to help himself. “Very well,” he sneered, “let’s have some fun. I would offer to shake on it, but we both know you’ll use that opening to take one of the kaiburr.”

“Ah, I see you’ve still got your wits about you, old man,” the Togruta observed. She patted the rolled-up mattress covering on the ground beside her. “Anyway, let’s get you wrapped up.”

Maul glanced at the crumpled leather and then back to her disdainfully. “You cannot be serious.”

“I didn’t bring anything along to make a stretcher,” Ahsoka said pointedly. “I didn’t think I’d be needing one. In the sorry state you’re in, you can’t ride on the back of my speeder. Fortunately for you, I happened to rent one with extra storage space in case the item I came to get turned out to be something bulky. However, if I get any part of the compartment dirty, they’ll charge me an extra fee. I’m not going to waste any more than I have to. Everything in port is overpriced as it is. So, yes, I’m bundling you up in this before we head out, and you’re going to be still and cooperate.”

“Remind me to make your death extra slow and torturous,” the Nightbrother replied.

“Of course,” the Togruta said airily. She stood up and made a big flourish about clearing out part of the floor by hand and spreading out the worn hide on the dirt. She was having way too much of a good time making the Dathomirian irate, knowing he could do nothing about it. _Take that for punching me in the head,_ she thought, knowing she was being petty. Never mind the fact she had bitten him first. Once done, she pouted. How was she supposed to move him into position now? Crossing her arms, she turned to ask him, “If I use the Force to move you, will that affect whatever it is you did to stop your bleeding? You’re too heavy for me to carry, and I doubt you can move on your own.”

Maul frowned at her with a furrowed brow. He seemed to have been wondering the same thing as he observed her. “I am… not sure,” he admitted. “There were no other Force users in my immediate proximity the last time I had to employ this… method.”

Ahsoka pouted thoughtfully. In the end, she shrugged. “Well, there’s no way of getting around it, anyway. I’d probably hurt you more if I tried to move you without the Force. I’ll make it quick.”

Without giving him the opportunity to object, the former Jedi extended her Life Force over the prone figure’s own and used it to lift his battered body onto the leather. She wasn’t all that gentle about it, indeed rather careless in her haste to move him rapidly. He landed back onto the floor with a heavy thud. Ahsoka hoped his legs had made most of that noise. She knelt beside him and leaned over him immediately, checking the wound in his chest. It wasn’t bleeding _too_ much. Maul had kept his arm clamped down over the makeshift bandage Ahsoka had made out of his sleeve.

“Hm, that didn’t go that badly,” she mused, almost to herself.

“According to _you,”_ the Zabrak snapped, glaring up at her. “You may as well take me out to your speeder by kicking me along the floor.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” the Togruta muttered. Moving quickly, she took one end of the leather tarp and folded it over the Nightbrother’s form, tucking it snugly underneath his body on the opposite side.

“Are we leaving _now?”_ Maul asked, fidgeting uncomfortably. “It’s still a few hours before the first sun rises.”

“Well, no,” Ahsoka replied, crossing her arms. “But you’re still a good distance from the fire, and the desert nights are cold.”

“I don’t mind the elements.”

Ahsoka looked down at the Zabrak with a raised eye ridge. “I’m not risking you getting any worse before we head out. Unfortunately for me, you’re not quite expendable at the moment.”

“You have made a grave mistake, admitting so,” the Dathomirian said, his golden eyes glinting in the unsteady ambient light.

“It would be useless to deny it by this point,” the former Padawan countered with an unconcerned wave of her hand. “We’ve already established that for the moment being, at least, we need each other. You can pretend to disagree all you’d like; won’t change a thing.” Standing back up, she stepped over him and picked up her soiled cloak from where it still lay, crumpled. She looked it over with a grimace of disgust before sighing in resignation, shaking it out and folding it into a more-or-less acceptable square. There was simply no way she was going to ever put that back on. Not all the disinfectant washings in the galaxy would render it usable again, she didn’t think. The Sith’s taint would remain on it permanently. She may as well burn it. For the moment, however, it still had some function. Ahsoka knelt back down beside the Zabrak and pushed it under his head once more, taking care to first lift his skull a bit so his horns wouldn’t snag the material. Maul observed her the entire time; she could tell he was already calculating exactly what his next move would be, and when. As for herself, she was much too tired to really put much thought towards the future beyond just getting through the next few hours. She still felt drained from the entire ordeal with the bled kyber crystals, and although her headache had gone away, a different type of pain was beginning to bloom at her temple, beside her lek: she was sure to get a large bruise from where the Nightbrother had punched her. She rubbed her face tiredly and allowed her shoulders to sag. It was looking to be a long, grueling rest of the night.

“Tired already?” the Zabrak asked her, turning his head a bit towards her direction in order to see her better over the rim of the leather cover. Once again, Ahsoka noticed no hint of malice in his tone this time. If anything, he sounded slightly concerned, which was odd, considering the circumstances.

“I didn’t come to Tatooine looking for a fight,” she muttered, shifting into a sitting position and bringing her knees up to her chest. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head on them. “Definitely not against someone as skilled in combat as you. Of course I’m tired, _and_ sleepy. Haven’t gotten much rest since Obi-Wan –”

She stopped herself short. Letting Maul know of the old Jedi Master’s ability to appear in the living realm after death was not a good idea, especially as the Zabrak was deeply steeped in the Dark Side. Hadn’t most Sith been obsessed with eternal life? And if what she had just witnessed was anything to go by…

“You were going to say Kenobi appeared to you, were you not?” the Dathomirian asked warily. “It was _he_ who sent you here, not the Skywalker boy. I should have known.”

Ahsoka looked down at the Zabrak and frowned. She didn’t answer.

“And he didn’t just appear to you in a vision during a meditative state,” he continued, staring up into the darkness, “but rather as a ghastly luminescent apparition that seems able to interact with the living world to some extent.”

At his words, the Togruta’s mouth dropped open a bit, her eyes wide. She gawked at the Nightbrother, incredulous. She leaned towards him, unable to help herself. “You’ve seen him too‽”

Maul scoffed and turned his fiery gaze back to her. “Well of course. The insufferable old josser wouldn’t waste the opportunity to torment me with his presence, now would he?”

Ahsoka almost smiled at the thought of Obi-Wan nagging after the Zabrak, allowing the Dark Sider no respite, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind, than another took its place, one far more serious. The Togruta’s brow furrowed and she frowned. “Did Obi-Wan…” she looked intently down at the Dathomirian, “did he tell you I was coming here? Did _he_ lead you to this place?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around what the old Jedi Master could have possibly been hoping to accomplish by instigating a confrontation between them.

“No,” the Nightbrother replied. “The karking git never speaks to me. I wasn’t aware he could.”

Ahsoka let out a deep breath and dropped her chin back onto her forearms. She yawned.

“Will you try to sleep?” Maul asked her. The lack of aggression in his voice was making her uncomfortable. The Nightbrother had a soothing tenor and his accent made him seem civilized and educated… almost pleasant. Quite the opposite of what she knew him to truly be. She couldn’t allow herself to let her guard down around him. His velvet speech may have been able to make her doubt her convictions once, as a teenager, but she had been wholly unprepared then. When she first encountered him on Mandalore, she had put up the fiercest, snappiest attitude she could muster, heeding the words of her former mentors when they warned her of the Zabrak’s velvet tongue. And he had _still_ drawn her in, persuaded her to his cause with his superficially sound reasoning. If it hadn’t been for her undying loyalty to Anakin Skywalker, she may just have betrayed the Jedi Order’s teachings and joined him. She had come so close…

“I don’t trust you enough to blink, let alone sleep,” she growled, rubbing her fist stubbornly at her eyes.

Then there had been Malachor… Ahsoka shuddered thinking about it. There were so many awful memories still plaguing her from that day: foremost her reunion with her former master, by then turned and twisted by the Dark Side into the Sith Lord, Darth Vader. But that hadn’t been the only unpleasant memory made back then. The Dathomirian Zabrak had played a great part in that instance, too. From the moment Ezra brought the stranded ex-Sith before her and Kanan, both former Padawans had distrusted him. And yet she had found herself fighting beside him again, shoulder to shoulder, against the Inquisitors that tracked them to that dreaded Sith temple. Not only had she accepted his help, knowing it was likely serving some ulterior motive for the Dathomirian, but she had offered her own support in turn, allowing the Dark Sider to ruthlessly eliminate the far more inexperienced Inquisitors hunting them. In the heat of battle, she had been all too willing to team up with him to the point where she forgot her caution and became careless. It was to her shame that she had ever allowed her defenses down around him enough to where he blinded Kanan Jarrus.

And all the while he had always spoken in that dangerously quiet tone of his, with an almost languid manner that denoted intelligence and wile. Hate it as she may to admit it, Maul was wise in all the wrong ways. In all the most perilous of ways. Few were the times he allowed his calm demeanor to fall and reveal the sadistic beast beneath. She was likely the only person fortunate enough to have witnessed it on more than one occasion and lived.

“Ah, that’s good, very good, Lady Tano,” the Dathomirian said now. “You are far more useful to me awake.”

“Is that so?” Ahsoka rolled her eyes, trying to appear unperturbed. If she came across as insolent, so be it. His attempts at reverse psychology were not going to work on her. She too, had grown wiser over the years.

“Yes, quite.”

“Care to tell me how?”

“Mm-hm,” the Zabrak hummed in assent. “I need something to focus on, so _I_ don’t succumb to sleep.”

“You think I’ll try to kill you while you nap?”

“No,” he replied. “You _have_ gone through too much trouble to keep me alive just to let all your efforts go to waste. You’re unlikely to change your mind by now, if only for that. However, just as you have admitted that you need to use me for your own ends, well, as you succinctly put things: it would be quite useless to deny my requirement of you as well. I need you to keep talking, prevent me from dozing off. Surely you realized what occurred a few moments ago as my consciousness began to drift?”

Ahsoka lifted her head, suddenly alert. Of course she remembered, although the night seemed to have dragged on for so long that she had nearly forgotten. His wound had started bleeding heavily again as soon as he’d begun to black out.

“This folk remedy salve you slapped together really only serves to hide the gore and assuage your mind,” the Zabrak said candidly. “If your assumptions about the fruit is correct, then it may keep the wound from becoming infected and sphacelate, but would need to be changed out constantly, and nothing I can do will make the blasted hole close up faster. Only time will allow the tissues to mend.”

“And you have to remain awake for _all_ of it‽” the Togruta asked, aghast. There really was no way the Dathomirian would survive without her intervention. “I thought you’d… stabilized the link to the Dark Side surrounding you with your chanting or whatever it is you were doing, and that’s why you were able to stop. Something like that.”

The Zabrak sighed, and it was his turn to roll his eyes. When he fixated his gaze upon her once more, he looked like he was observing a youngling with sub-par intelligence. “The incantation is used to focus one’s mind and nothing more. Anything can be said, so long as it facilitates concentration. Once your will is used to dominate the Living Force of your own body, the ‘chant,’ as you put it, is no longer necessary. What _is_ required, however, is an active mind and a resilient determination. Yes, remaining awake is a must.”

“But you’re not focusing on stopping the bleeding _right now,_ are you?” the Togruta asked, leaning a bit closer to him. She wondered if she should take another look at his wound. “You’ve been talking to me this entire time!”

“And I have been determined to live this entire time, Lady Tano. You may not notice it, but I _am_ exerting my will over this mangled body to make sure it doesn’t expire. I’ve managed such a thing before.”

“On Naboo?”

A pause. “Not _just_ on Naboo.”

“Well, dwang, how many times have you been mortally wounded?”

“I was raised by Darth Sidious. What do _you_ think?”

Ahsoka pouted thoughtfully. She had never stopped to consider the Zabrak’s upbringing, or what it had possibly entailed. She knew, from what had been relayed to her by Obi-Wan, mostly, that Maul came from a clan of Zabrak hybrids that lived on the planet Dathomir, now essentially extinct: the Nightbrothers. It was the same clan that later produced Savage Opress, the giant, lumbering, bestial Sith assassin trained by Count Dooku. Maul had been taken from the planet at a young age, she was told. How young, she wasn’t sure, and had never asked. She was growing curious now.

“Where were you raised?” she asked.

“What do you care?” he snapped impatiently, his cool façade slipping a bit. Perhaps she had hit a bit of a sore spot. Ahsoka grinned. That was good to know.

“I don’t, really,” she lied. The more she knew of her enemy, the better she could control him, or so she hoped. “You’re the one who told me to make sure you stay awake. If I keep you talking, you can’t fall asleep.”

The Dathomirian scowled darkly. “I cannot waste my breath on idle chit-chat. One of my lungs appears to be bruised. _You_ speak about something. I will listen.”

“I don’t feel like talking to you,” Ahsoka replied curtly, looking down upon the Zabrak with cold eyes. “So, either you can do the idle chit-chatting, or I can go sit by the fire, maybe flick a few embers your way if I hear you start to snore.”

Maul growled and said nothing, so Ahsoka shrugged and made to get up. She didn’t even have a cloak anymore and the night chill _was_ bothering her. She had never much liked the cold. The fire was definitely more inviting than the Sith’s company.

Before she was fully upright, however, the Dathomirian muttered, “Mustafar.” Apparently, he was more desirous of her presence than he let on. The Togruta sat back down and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to conserve her own warmth. She really would have preferred the bonfire, small as it was.

Ahsoka knew about Mustafar, of course. She had been to the planet before, while still apprenticed to Anakin Skywalker. Finding out Maul had been raised there didn’t come as much of a surprise. After all, during the Clone Wars, Darth Sidious – still operating from the shadows at the time – had orchestrated a scheme to kidnap Force-sensitive children and had them taken to the hellish planet. She and her master had been able to rescue them, but unfortunately were unable to gain any information about the Sith behind the plot, as the facility the infants were kept in was destroyed in the process. Later, after the enactment of Order 66, she had learned during her time as a spy that Sidious – finally revealing himself as Palpatine and declaring himself Emperor – had returned to the lava planet and finished the plan he had begun in the Clone Wars. This time, the Force-sensitive children he had kidnapped from all reaches of the galaxy were taken to Mustafar and brainwashed, trained in the Dark Side to become the dreaded Inquisitorius. It made sense that he would have used this place to raise and train the Zabrak as a child.

“What was it like, growing up in a place like that?” she asked, although from her experience there, she surmised that the Dathomirian’s upbringing was not pleasant.

“Demanding,” Maul answered curtly, clearly annoyed that she had continued her line of questioning. “However, I suppose it would have been the same regardless of which planetary system my master chose to train me in. _Must_ we go on in this vein? I can assure you there is not much of interest or substance in the era of my youth. Just your basic physical and psychological torture in order to hone my prowess in the Dark Side. There must be something else we can discuss.”

The casual way in which the Zabrak made the remark didn’t fool her, and Ahsoka raised an eye ridge skeptically. _Basic physical and psychological torture?_ How could either of those things be _basic?_ And how could the Sith dole such things out so callously to where they spoke of them in such a carefree manner? Judging by the way Maul avoided her questioning gaze when saying that comment betrayed his own unease with the subject. Not for the first time that night, the former Jedi felt a twinge of compassion for the wounded foe before her. She decided to leave well enough alone and change the subject. She wasn’t too keen on learning what sorts of dreadful things the Sith did to their own and certainly did not want to feel anything at all towards Sidious’s former apprentice save for distrust and contempt. Sympathy for _this_ devil was a deadly thing, she knew.

“Okay, then,” Ahsoka said, huddling into a tighter ball and shivering slightly. “We’ll talk about something else.”

The Nightbrother’s features visibly relaxed. He seemed relieved. “I’ll ask you questions,” Ahsoka clarified pointedly. “And you’ll answer honestly.”

“Despite what you may believe, Lady Tano,” the Zabrak said quietly, “I have yet to lie to you a single time since we’ve met.”

“Is that so?” Ahsoka asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Back during the Siege, did I not reveal my true plans regarding your master when you asked me about them? I could have lied to you then. Most, knowing about the strong bond that often formed between Jedi Master and Padawan, _would_ have lied.”

Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably in place and frowned. She didn’t like remembering what happened on Mandalore. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t like remembering anything that had to do with the Zabrak. All her memories involving him were accompanied by pain. Still, she couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Malachor,” she stated simply to counter his previous point.

“What of it? I offered to help your group be rid of the Inquisitorius chasing you, and did my part, as I recall.”

“Only to then turn around and betray us! You blinded Kanan and attacked me! _Although_ you had claimed to need us in facing Vader!”

“Oh, but my young friend had by then set out to activate the temple’s weapon. I wouldn’t _need_ you anymore. The fact I decided to dispose of you two _former_ Jedi trainees was because of my faith in Ezra’s abilities.”

The Togruta stared down at the Zabrak incredulously, her mouth slightly agape. It took her a moment to get any words out. “Why, you slimy lump of –!”

“I proposed for us to work together to reach a common goal and we agreed upon no further alliance beyond that,” the Zabrak continued, absolutely unperturbed by Ahsoka’s obviously growing aggravation. “Once our plans began to diverge from one another, there was no point in continuing an association that neither party was interested in.”

“That type of logic seems conveniently slanted in your favor.”

“Of course it is,” Maul said, his eyes taking on a malevolent glint. “It’s _my_ logic.”

“By that token, I am to assume you will break whatever kind of truce this is at the first opportunity you get.”

 _“You_ proposed the game this time around, Lady Tano,” he replied. “You _asked_ me to try and kill you. It would be unbecoming of me not to comply.”

Ahsoka tilted her head thoughtfully. “I suppose you have a point there,” she finally said. “In that case, I guess it would be a disservice to trust a single word you say. I _did_ also propose we try to outwit one another.”

“Fair enough,” the Zabrak said. When Ahsoka didn’t say anything for a few moments, he cleared his throat softly, as though gently urging her to speak. However, the Togruta said nothing. She found it quite pointless to ask questions now, knowing she wouldn’t believe whatever answer the Nightbrother gave. Finally, the Dathomirian spoke up, saying, “Were you going to ask anything?”

Ahsoka frowned at the Zabrak, still unsure of what to say. Finally, she settled on a question she found puzzling that yet wouldn’t make much difference if the Sith lied to her about. She could find out the answer soon enough once they got back to her shuttle.

“The weapon you used to fight me outside,” she began, her gaze moving over to where she had placed it beside the fire, “what is it made of? It affected my lightsabers, but I couldn’t figure out how, or why.”

“It’s called a gaderffii,” Maul replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly. “Tusken design.”

“I recognized that much,” Ahsoka said, “but that doesn’t explain how –”

“In their culture, Sand People craft their first gaffi sticks as they’re preparing for their bloodrite. Do you know what that is?”

“Do I want to know?”

Maul grunted in amusement. “Probably not.” He continued, “Most are made out of wood, dried and petrified by the suns, and bone. As a warrior grows his prowess, fells more enemies – which they consider all off-worlders to be – they will craft better, more ornate versions out of whatever they scavenge. Chieftains have gaderffii made of salvaged metal, even durasteel. These are harder to manufacture, as Tusken have no forges and have poor smithing skills, but they make do.”

“Did you make yours?”

“Yes. I acquired the parts from Jawas,” he said, “Quite cheaply, too. They didn’t realize I wanted those specific pieces of metal they had among the junk. Since they couldn’t work them into anything useful, or even cut them with their welders, they gave me the entire lot of it after I pretended to want something else. Foolish creatures had never heard of cortosis, let alone seen it, I’m sure.”

“Cortosis?” Ahsoka asked, surprised. “That’s rare, especially out here.”

“I saw the weave in the durasteel, even though it had been painted over. It looked like it had been part of the hull of some sand vessel, possibly a sail barge.”

Ahsoka felt a bit better. Cortosis weave – depending on the ratio of the material in the alloy – _could_ short-out a lightsaber by redirecting the blade’s energy back into the hilt. The effect was temporary, which explained why her lightsabers were able to reignite with no problem when she recovered them. It also meant her weapons weren’t permanently damaged. Ahsoka almost let out a sigh of relief until she remembered not to believe a word out of the Zabrak’s mouth. He could very well have made the entire thing up on the spot. Instead, her breath whistled out of her teeth with a frustrated hiss.

“Would your mind be assuaged if I gave you my word not to lie?” Maul asked quietly, observing her reaction.

“No.” Ahsoka replied flatly, refusing to look over at the Sith and instead staring longingly over at the fire. “An oath from you means nothing to me.”

“You wanted this game, Lady Tano,” the Dathomirian murmured. “You did this to yourself.”

 _“You_ didn’t leave me much of a choice!” Ahsoka spat back, finally turning back to the prone figure beside her. “If you really _have_ been here for years, as you claim, why did you wait until now to take back your weapon? Why did Obi-Wan have it to begin with, if you were still alive and nearby‽” The questions began pouring out of her in an angry torrent, with her unable to hold them back. “Why did he want me to believe you were dead, and why the skrog did you show up only _now_ to complicate things for me‽” The Togruta pounded a fist into the earthen floor beside her foe’s shoulder, wishing instead she could punch it into his stomach.

Maul’s brow hitched up a bit in surprise, but he concealed it quickly. “I did not know you would arrive on Tatooine and would have never dreamed you would be seeking to take my old saberstaff,” he said measuredly. “As for Kenobi… don’t ask me to make sense of whatever cryptic messages he sent to you from the Nether. We never understood each other back when the dotard was alive, let alone afterwards. I certainly didn’t ask him to keep my existence hidden. That he chose to do so is… interesting.”

“You’re very talkative for someone with a bruised lung,” Ahsoka quipped bitterly, averting her gaze once more while her lekku flushed slightly. She hadn’t meant to question Obi-Wan’s reasoning aloud, least of all in front of Maul.

“As for the lightsaber,” the Zabrak continued, “I left my weapon with him willingly. It was a… parting gift.” The Dathomirian smirked as he said these last words.

“Willingly?” the former Jedi said, raising an eye-ridge. “Is that why it’s cloven in two?”

“It was a brief duel,” Maul said dismissively. “Something I needed to get out of the way, in order to fulfill the prophecy I had seen in the holocrons. You are aware of the events that led me here, I assume?”

“The basics, sure,” the Togruta replied with a shrug, watching the small flames from the bonfire dance and cast flickering shadows in the distance. “I’ve been told of what you did to Ezra, how you used him to lead you to Obi-Wan.” She didn’t try to hide the angry edge from her voice.

“I needed to find Kenobi,” the Dathomirian said simply. “By any means necessary.”

“Was it worth it?” Ahsoka snarled, keeping her gaze averted. She was becoming so upset, she was afraid of what she’d do if she looked down and caught whatever amused expression was no doubt plastered on the damned Sith’s face. “Knowing the guilt you saddled Ezra with for months afterwards? Sabine told me he was plagued by visions all the way through up until his disappearance. And it was all because of _you.”_

“His disappearance‽” The Zabrak sounded alarmed, and wincing, Ahsoka realized she had once again slipped up and said more than she should. She heard Maul grunt with effort and then groan in pain as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. “Where is my apprentice?” There was legitimate concern in his voice, a sense of urgency bordering on despair.

“Ezra was _never_ your apprentice,” Ahsoka growled, reaching over without looking and pushing the Dathomirian back down onto the ground. She considered saying nothing more but decided to elaborate a bit on her friend’s last known situation. If anything, just because it clearly mattered to the Zabrak, and he was incapable of doing anything about it at the moment.

“Purrgil took him and almost the entirety of the Imperial Seventh Fleet into hyperspace. His whereabouts – as well as Grand Admiral Thrawn’s – are unknown. Sabine Wren and I have been searching for him, _were_ searching for him, before I was called here.”

Maul was silent for a long time. If it weren’t for his strained breathing from his attempt at moving, Ahsoka would have thought he had fallen asleep or lost consciousness. She could feel the Nightbrother’s eyes burning into the side of her head, could almost sense his apprehension, but even so, she refused to look at him. Remembering everything her friend went through – and what she herself had endured due to Maul’s actions – hardened her heart. She made sure to hang on to those thoughts, keep them ever-present in her mind, lest she forget exactly who she was dealing with. She had almost defaulted to feeling sorry for the Zabrak just moments earlier: despite her harsh attitude towards him, she was compassionate by nature, and at the moment, that was part of the problem. Focusing on Ezra and reminding herself that it had been Maul who had made the young man suffer helped the Togruta stop herself from feeling any type of empathy for her foe. Because he _was_ her foe. It frustrated her that she had to keep reminding herself as much, in spite of everything.

“Once I am healed,” the Zabrak finally began, “perhaps I can help you find him.”

“Not a chance,” Ahsoka scoffed.

“If anyone would have a chance at locating him, it _would_ be me. You know this, Lady Tano,” he insisted. “The bond which he and I established in the Force by uniting the holocrons could prove useful. His mind and mine remain linked; I am sure of it. And,” he added after a brief pause, “although it means nothing to you, I vow not to interfere with the boy further once he is found, if he so wishes. I… truly never meant him any harm.”

Ahsoka reluctantly turned to look down upon the fallen Sith. She knew she shouldn’t believe him, had just made a point to make sure he knew she wouldn’t, yet, as had happened in years past, she was drawn in by his words, in spite of herself. It was frustrating, to say the least, how willing she was to trust him. It was that damned voice of his! Unflinching, quietly confident, and that strong yet soothing cadence he spoke with. It was alluring, putting some primal part of her at ease. She had never judged Ezra for being taken in by Maul’s deceptions. However, that was all they were: deceptions and falsehoods. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw clenched.

“Never in a thousand years would I ever allow you anywhere near Ezra Bridger, physically or otherwise,” she growled, leaning over the prone figure, and jabbing a finger into his chest, above the actual wound, but close enough to where she knew the flesh was still tender. “Keep your pervasive darkness to yourself.”

Trusting herself around the Dathomirian no further, the former Padawan rose to her feet. “We’re done talking. It should only be a couple more hours before the first sun begins to rise anyway. Use your pain or hatred or greed or whatever it was you used back on Naboo to keep yourself awake and focused. In either case, I hope you suffer.”

She marched over to the bonfire and sat beside it cross-legged, deliberately turning her back to the wounded Zabrak. From a tactical perspective, she knew that left her open to attack, but she truly didn’t believe Maul was capable of moving much at all. She had heard the exertion in his voice when he’d attempted to get up. More than anything, she wanted to pretend he wasn’t there in the room with her, that he had never showed up at all, or perhaps that she _had_ managed to kill him with that cycler blast. She couldn’t get the look of abject misery that had flitted across the Nightbrother’s features when she’d left him laying there on the ground, alone in the darkness, out of her head. He had been about to protest, she knew, but she had walked away before giving him the chance. Was he afraid? Had he been, back when Obi-Wan had cut him down all those decades ago? He looked forsaken, and Ahsoka had to bite down hard on her lip and clutch her hands into fists in her lap to keep her own frame from shaking. Cruelty was not something that came naturally to her, but she needed to keep a cold distance. In truth, she was afraid of Maul, of how conniving he was and how he would be able to manipulate her to his own ends if she weren’t careful. He was right in one thing: this _was_ the game she had proposed they play, and now she needed to abide by her own rules. _Let him rot,_ she told herself, scrunching her eyes shut. _You’ve done all you could for vermin like him, now let him rot alone, in silence._

The hours remaining until the first sun of Tatooine rose were among the longest the Togruta had ever experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, it took me SO DAMN LONG to write this chapter, and it's SHORTER than the other ones, too. I blame this on a new low-carb diet I decided to try out (I'm diabetic, and it helps control my blood sugars). I couldn't concentrate on my stories. All I could think about was how much I miss donuts. :(


	4. Wending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get gory. They also start to go astray...

As soon as the sky began to change hue with the oncoming dawn, Ahsoka grabbed her satchel and went outside to prepare her speeder. She had spent the past few hours keeping herself busy: cleaning her utility vibroblade as best she could by rubbing down the various tools in the handle with sand. That would have to suffice until she got back to her ship and was able to give it a proper chem-rinse. At least she was able to remove the sticky black melon residue. She had then reorganized her supplies inside her backpack, making sure to rewrap Maul’s cane sheath with the bit of brown fabric from the strongbox, which she decided to leave behind. Her sabers, she kept secured to her own belt. The former Jedi had done everything in her power to keep herself from checking up on the felled Zabrak. She had continued to ignore him even after she heard him softly groan in pain and then take up those strange mutterings again. However, now with the approaching daylight, she knew she would have to face him again soon. Although she wanted to delay the inevitable, she also wanted to head back into town as early as possible. Part of her was regretting the deal she had made with the Dathomirian, but she couldn’t entertain the possibility of backing down now. She was beginning to think that, more than the bled kyber crystals in his saberstaff, _he_ was the Sith weapon she had been sent to find. She wouldn’t put it past Obi-Wan.

By the time she was done triple-checking her speeder and making sure her things were secured snugly in place, the sky above was becoming a lavender-grey, with the far end of the horizon beginning to turn a blushing pink. A promising new day, she would have thought, under any other circumstances. Resigned, she walked back into the synstone abode.

Maul’s eyes were glassy, and he didn’t respond when she came into his line of sight. In fact, he made no acknowledgment of her presence whatsoever. His vacant eyes were staring at nothing; Ahsoka would have thought he was dead for sure had his lips not been moving still, silently mouthing incoherencies. She wasn’t sure if he were feigning to be in worse condition: he had been much livelier when she’d left him alone hours earlier, and she told herself it _was_ possible – and probable – that he was trying to fool her into lowering her guard. Still, she knelt beside him and lay a hand on his brow. His skin was clammy, and he barely registered her touch, only flinching slightly, his eyes remaining unfocused. Ahsoka decided it was best to not try to speak to him at all and merely move him quickly. She didn’t even bother to check up on his wound, knowing it was best for him if she just got him proper medical attention as soon as she was able. Frowning, she readjusted the leather covering over him – it had become a bit loose during the night from where the Zabrak had struggled to move – and tucked the end of the tarp into its own folds as tightly as she could. She only hoped that would hold. Then, she got back up to her feet and held her hands out over Maul’s prone form, manipulating the Cosmic Force around him and levitating his body off the ground. The Dathomirian moaned faintly and Ahsoka heard him mumble something about chains, but he otherwise didn’t put up much resistance.

Once she had settled him into the side compartment of her rented speeder – he didn’t quite fit properly, so she had to prop his body into a scrunched, half-upright position that looked incredibly uncomfortable (even then he didn’t try to move) – she headed back inside the old home one final time to put out the fire, embers by now, and grab her ruined cloak. She didn’t want to leave any real evidence that would lead anyone to know who had been there, and for what purpose. Before exiting, she kicked the durasteel coffer back under the broken display table and then tipped the pieces of the latter over on top, making it seem like just another pile of rummaged rubble. There wasn’t much she could do about the dried bloodstains and splatter from where Maul fell, but she supposed no one would give them much significance: bandits and scavengers often ended partnerships or encounters in the most violent of ways. Just another dispute over loot, nothing to see here, folks.

Back outside, Ahsoka took her travelling robe and used it as padding around the Zabrak’s head. He was still muttering, back to using the strange language the Togruta couldn’t understand, and his head lolled to the side when she tried to adjust the fabric around his neck and skull. His eyes were rolled back in their sockets, and he was drooling. It occurred to Ahsoka that he might just be in as bad a shape as he seemed, possibly delirious. When she patted down his frame over the leather covering along his arms and to his hands, however, she realized he was still gripping both halves of his old weapon as tightly as ever. She could sense the same repulsive darkness encapsulating him, and she couldn’t smell fresh blood on him, so she supposed he was still responsive enough to keep himself alive for a while yet. Hopefully long enough for her to get him aboard her ship and get a proper prognosis on his state.

The trip to Mos Eisley was uneventful, and the Togruta could make out the buildings in the distance before the second sun had fully emerged over the dunes. For this, she was grateful, as she had been travelling at the top speed her vehicle could provide. The fewer amount of people noticed her entry into town, the better for her. She knew curious onlookers might confuse her for a bounty hunter bringing in a body to turn in for a reward and didn’t need to deal with guilds at the moment. Mos Eisley had become infinitely more dangerous than even before the Hutts controlled the area. Now, mercenaries set the rules, and rumor had it that soon, a war would break out on the desert planet between the Desilijic kajidic of Nal Hutta and the bounty hunters who had taken over Jabba’s palace. She didn’t need to get dragged into any of that nonsense.

She navigated her way quickly to the garage she had rented where she kept her T-6 shuttle. Leaving it there for the night had nearly drained her financially, but she hadn’t wanted to take the risk of leaving the ship docked at the outskirts of the spaceport. She would have been lucky to return and find it in pieces. She paid the droid in charge of the place and asked to borrow a hover-loader. This she used as a gurney to haul the Dathomirian onto her vessel. There was no need for anyone to know she had Force abilities, even a droid. Maul’s eyes were shut during the ordeal, but she could tell he was awake by the manner in which he held his body stiffly when she transferred him from the loader onto the med-bay table aboard her ship. Acting quickly, Ahsoka strapped him onto the metal slab and switched on the shuttle’s A.I. medical computer. As the pale green light began to sweep over the Zabrak’s body, Ahsoka touched his shoulder gently and told him, “Hold still. Diagnostics will take a few minutes to complete. In the meantime, I’ll get my payments sorted out so we can take off.”

This was the first time she was speaking to the Sith since the night before, and she felt a bit awkward doing so. She knew she didn’t owe him an explanation on anything she was about to do, but she also couldn’t treat him like a non-sentient animal, could she? She walked away from the med-bay quickly before her thoughts lingered on him any longer. He hadn’t answered her anyway, so Ahsoka wasn’t even sure he had been paying attention.

By the time Ahsoka got back on board, having paid and received her clearing code from the droid, as well as instructing the mech on where to return the speeder, the medical diagnostics had completed, and the ship’s artificial intelligence hologram ignited the instant she approached the table.

“What’s the status, Doc?” she asked the computer, speaking to it as though it were an old friend.

“The individual – a male Zabrak of undetermined age – appears to have a deep circular lesion caused by the collision and embedment of a foreign projectile.”

The Togruta rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that part. I shot him. How bad is it?”

“The sternum has been compromised. Although the manubrium remains intact, the lower part of the gladiolus is fractured, and the impact from the projectile has caused the xiphisternum to snap off and embed itself in the liver. Shrapnel has caused tears in the diaphragm and ruptures in the inferior sternopericardial ligament. There are minor burns throughout the body. He also has older wounds, including a horizontal bisecting laceration that has resulted in the loss of his lower extremities and part of his torso, including sections of his digestive system and all reproductive organs. These have been replaced by cybernetics, Mandalorian in design, if I am not mistaken.”

Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Maul remained still, and she was unsure if he was listening. He had to be awake, however, so she guessed he probably was. “Never mind the older wounds,” she said. “Go back to the more pressing ones. You were saying about his sternum?”

“The manubrium remains intact,” the hologram began again. “However, the gla –”

 _“You don’t need to repeat anything,”_ the Togruta clarified, growing irritated. “Just tell me: this requires surgery, doesn’t it?”

“Intensive surgery, and immediately.”

“How urgent is it?”

“Death is imminent within minutes after an injury of this type. The hemorrhaging of the liver alone is fatal. The damage to the diaphragm needs to be addressed as well, as the lungs will not be able to expand fully to oxygenate the blood. This will lead to hypoxia, which is also fatal. Due to the ruptured sternopericardial ligament, the pericardial sacs have become inflamed, causing pericarditis. This is an extremely painful condition which can cause scarring and restrict the hearts’ movements if not treated at once. The sacs may also fill with fluid, causing cardiac tamponade, which leads to fatally low blood pressure.”

Ahsoka gripped the edge of the table tightly, a knot forming in her throat. How many times did the diagnostic use the word fatal? Way too many; it was making her dizzy. To think that Maul had been doggedly pushing his body to live for hours now, when he should have expired within the first few minutes of that gunshot… Despite herself, the former Padawan began to feel guilt gnaw at her insides. His pleading eyes came to mind again, that look of hopelessness and despair when she’d walked away from him.

“There is also foreign organic material in the lesion,” the A.I. continued, “which must be cleansed out immediately before further treatment is pursued.”

“It’s fruit pulp,” Ahsoka muttered, feeling suddenly foolish at saying the words out loud. Maul had been right when he pointed out that the black melon remedy had really only served one purpose: to make her own conscience feel better. She hadn’t realized the injury was as bad as the diagnostic hologram was describing. Partly, that was due to how calm and articulated the Dathomirian had seemed during the entire ordeal. How in the world had he managed to form words in that state, let alone carry on a full conversation‽ Ahsoka had to fight a sudden urge to reach out and comfort him. _I have nothing to apologize for!_ she told herself, but that did nothing to help her remorse.

“For the most part, that is correct,” the hologram stated. “However, the scan detected that some of the organic matter within the wound is a type of fauna.”

_“What‽”_

“My database on the lifeforms of this planet is incomplete,” the medical computer added, “I cannot identify the exact type. However, they are invertebrates of some sort.”

Remembering the brown beetles which she had seen in the bedding back at the old hut, Ahsoka began to remove the straps off of Maul in order to unwrap him more easily from the leather tarp. The Dathomirian let out a small sigh as she did so, the only sign he had made thus far of acknowledging what was going on around him. Once the covering was out of the way, Ahsoka was stunned to find that there _weren’t_ beetles of any kind crawling over the Zabrak’s form.

They were blood-ants.

Ahsoka gawked at the scene before her. She was used to seeing carnage, having been exposed to the atrocities of war since she became a Padawan, but even this seemed too much for her. The Zabrak’s wound – and indeed his entire chest area – was covered in the insects. They swarmed all over his exposed flesh, biting at his skin, although Ahsoka noticed they avoided the pieces of melon over his wound. Blood-ants were large insects: about the size of her fingernails, and they made towers out of the desert sands. They got their moniker not due to their color, but because of their apparent fondness for the bodily fluids of injured creatures. Perhaps due to the harsh climate of Tatooine, they had no better way to keep hydrated. They produced no real venom, but were constantly licking their pincers, and their saliva tended to cause painful allergic reactions in most other species. This would usually make the flesh where they bit swell up, sending more blood to the area. These secretions also served as a blood thinner, meaning the bugs were able to get more of their desired ambrosia. Even non-natives of Tatooine such as herself knew to give the sand-towers a wide berth if they encountered them in the desert dunes. Now Ahsoka understood why the Nightbrother had begun groaning during the night. Worse still was knowing she couldn’t just swat them off him, as that would probably worsen his injury.

Hastily, she reached just below the lip of the metal table and drew out a thin nozzle attached to a mesh hose. This was connected to a sterilized supply of air. It was for use in flushing small particles out of delicate membranes, such as the eyes or gills, but all the Togruta had ever used it for since she had acquired the shuttle was to spot-dry her clothes when she accidentally spilled liquid on them. Now, she took aim and sent short puffs of the cold air across the Dathomirian’s torso, jettisoning most of the insects off him and onto the floor, where she crushed them with her boot. A couple of the ants bit down harder and hung on by their serrated mandibles. Ahsoka flinched and cursed under her breath. She saw Maul make a grimace at the sensation. The Togruta pulled medical tweezers from another compartment beneath the table and began picking off the remaining bugs from the Zabrak’s chest one at a time. He grunted but didn’t protest.

“Dwang,” the former Jedi gasped under her breath as she worked. “When did all these get on you? And why didn’t you say anything‽”

Maul finally cracked his eyes open slightly and regarded her. When Ahsoka met his gaze, she was surprised to see he looked somewhat amused. His wince of discomfort was turned up ever so slightly at the corners, and he bared his teeth viciously at her in what could have passed for a pained grin. “Used them,” he sneered softly, “to stay awake. They were… more help… to me than you.”

Ahsoka felt blood rushing up to her head, flooding her lekku and then washing back into her cheekbones. She felt simultaneously relieved that he was still cognizant enough to speak, yet his cold mockery wounded a deep part of her conscience. Didn’t he realize how hard it had been for her, to treat him the way she had‽ She didn’t consider herself the best person by any means – she had her faults, and she acknowledged them on the daily – but she liked to think she was at least _somewhat_ decent, and she did her best to be kind. Ignoring another’s suffering went against the very fiber of the moral code she lived by: that when someone needed her help, she would offer what aid she could. Her vision blurred as, against her will, tears sprang up to her eyes. If anyone deserved to be left alone to die in squalor and misery, it was the horrid fiend before her, and yet it had taken so much of her will power to keep a cold distance, ignore his pleading eyes. The implication – no, the _accusation_ of his words was that she was just as callous as he, just as much of a lowlife. The level of cruelty he was capable of, even when his state was so dire, was appalling to her. He truly was taking great pleasure out of whatever sick match they had embarked upon.

“I should let you die,” Ahsoka said quietly, blinking the tears away. Her throat felt tight; it was difficult for her to get the words out, even. She broke eye contact and went back to removing the ants from the Zabrak’s chest.

Maul made no further comment and the Togruta was able to finish her task without much fuss on his part. She wisely kept her own mouth shut; she wanted to offer no incentive that would get the Dathomirian talking to her again. Once finished, she returned her attention to the A.I.

“Is there something you can do in the meantime to stabilize his condition?” she asked as she fastened the Zabrak back down. She made sure to tighten the straps a bit more than she should. If he wanted her to act the villain, she would do so, she told herself. “I don’t think there’s a medical establishment on this planet with the necessary equipment or personnel to handle this type of procedure.”

“Your assessment is accurate,” the hologram asserted. “I have already scanned the docking port’s mainframe, and the options here are quite dismal. You most certainly need to get off planet in order to find a suitable facility. Unfortunately, there is little that can be done for this individual. All recorded knowledge of similar lesions indicate they have resulted in death. Against all logic, the wound appears to be in a static state somehow. The blood around the area does not circulate, and the beats per minute are on the low end of the spectrum, for one of this species. I do not know how long this physical state will last, although I doubt that he has much longer to live. You would never get him proper aid on time.”

“Don’t worry about that,” the former Jedi said, glancing down at the Zabrak. “He can hold on for a while longer yet. His is a… um, _unique_ circumstance.”

“Very well,” the medical computer said, “I will make adjustments to my knowledge matrix if he survives. In that case, I should say that administering serum or bacta fluid is not recommended until _after_ surgery repairs the damage done to the bone and ligaments. Perhaps a pain killer or sedative would aid in the individual’s comfort level, but that is all.”

“No,” the Dathomirian growled. “None of that.” He paused as he struggled to breathe. The entire ordeal seemed to be tiring him out. Ahsoka was surprised it had taken him that long to begin showing the effects of the strain on his body. “Need to… _focus.”_

The Togruta frowned. “He doesn’t want pain medication, so don’t administer any,” she told the hologram. “Just monitor his state and let me know the moment he’s no longer stable. In either case, we need to depart soon,” Ahsoka added, mostly talking to herself. “This place charges by the standard hour. The clearance code I received will only be good for a few minutes more. Thanks for the info, Doc. Keep me in the know, okay?”

“Affirmative,” the medical A.I. responded crisply, the hologram fading back into the projector in the wall.

As she began to walk towards the cockpit, Maul called out weakly, “Where will you travel to from here?”

“I’ll figure things out as I go, let me get airborne first,” she replied, taking the captain’s seat. Frowning, she began to switch on the panels that would power the engines up. She transmitted the clearance code into the ship’s mainframe and felt the garage’s security mechanism accept the sequence and release the docking magnets from her shuttle. “Either way,” she said loudly over her shoulder as the primary engines roared to life, “it’s really none of your kriffing business.”

The Zabrak said no more, and Ahsoka made a point to obsess over takeoff and departure procedures. Even after she was in-flight and zooming towards the upper levels of Tatooine’s atmosphere, she kept manual control of the craft, although by this point, many fliers would have already switched over to autopilot. She needed to keep her hands busy, and her mind too, at least partway, to keep herself numb to the situation at hand. Now would be an excellent time, she knew, to reach out to the New Republic. She had the encryption codes for the safe channels of communication, and Luke, at the very least, was awaiting news from her. It wasn’t until the T-6 was safely cradled in the quiet dark embrace of space that Ahsoka set the vessel to hover in orbit around the desert planet while she sat and truly began to go over her options.

Pulling up the Intergalactic Atlas up on her ship’s main screen, she studied the various trade routes and destinations, considering which planet would be best to get to. She knew she didn’t have much time to decide. Now that she knew how gravely injured the Zabrak was, Ahsoka was concerned he wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer, regardless of his prowess in the Dark Side. She needed him alive: the crystals he was currently in possession of were too valuable, too dangerous. The former Jedi was worried about the backlash of Dark Force energy they would emit if Maul expired, seeing as how deeply he seemed to have bonded himself to them. She was suddenly reminded of the Sixth Brother’s demise, of the explosion caused by the kyber crystals overloading the power connection in the hilt they were in at the time. Those crystals – now hers – had rejected the Inquisitor’s aura over hers because they had been forced to serve him. The situation with Maul was different, of course, as were the crystals he held. She had seen the Dathomirian, too, subjugate the bled kyber crystals, had _felt_ it through the Force. However, these crimson gems had seemed to almost embrace his dark influence. In fact, she had sensed them resonate to his presence the moment he had arrived outside Obi-Wan’s old home, before she even knew who it was she was facing. The crystals knew, however. They remembered their master, and in that moment, had set themselves even more furiously against her, costing her the skirmish and almost rendering her unconscious. How much more would their hate compound if he were no longer alive to rein them in? Absentmindedly, the Togruta reached up and rubbed her brow, recalling the excruciating pain in her skull. She wasn’t keen on experiencing that again.

There were really only a handful of systems Ahsoka could get to in a timely manner, and, being in the Outer Rim, none really had the advanced medical technology she believed were required to save her unwilling passenger. With a sigh, she downloaded the IGA into her gauntlet projector and walked back over to the med bay. Although she had told him otherwise, she deemed it only fair that the Dathomirian have a say in what ultimately happened to him regarding his treatment. When she reached his side, she pressed a button on the metal table, which made it fold up a bit, propping him up into a reclined posture. Maul eyed her warily, but she noticed the lines in his face relaxed a bit. He seemed more comfortable that way, and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed seemed a bit steadier. Remembering what the shuttle’s medical A.I. had told her about his diaphragm, the Togruta realized he had probably had more difficulty breathing in a completely prone position. Both guilt and irritation flashed in the back of Ahsoka’s mind. _Why the skrog didn’t he tell her anything‽_

“There’s really nowhere I can get you to that has facilities capable of performing the type of surgery you require,” she said flatly. No use easing him into the news.

“I know.”

“Not legally, anyway,” she added, pulling up the hologram on her gauntlet. “I’m sure some of these places have imported technology from elsewhere, but only the highest levels of society: those with wealth or power – or both – will have access to it. I have neither of those things.”

“That… has been by choice… I take it?”

He _was_ having more trouble breathing. Great. His condition was worsening before her eyes, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She decided to ignore both his comment and the nagging worry that was nibbling at her mind. They needed to make a decision, and soon.

“The closest planet is Ryloth, if I take the Turnaround,” she explained, enhancing the projection.

“They’re neutral,” Maul muttered hoarsely. “Not part of… the New Republic. Can’t get… shit done there. They have… no… funds.” He paused to take a few ragged breaths. “Twi’leks can’t even… fix their own… affairs. Their government… barely functions.”

“Thanks for the civics lesson, Gramps, but save your breath,” Ahsoka quipped, raising an eye-ridge. “You seem to be losing your grip over this tactic you’re using. How about I point out systems and you either just nod or shake your head?”

“Letting me… choose, Lady Tano?”

“It’s your body, your death, pal.” The Togruta quickly turned her attention back to the hologram hovering over her forearm, uncomfortably aware that she had instinctively taken on a more casual tone with the Sith, approaching comradery, even. _What the skrog, Ahsoka?_ she chided herself, her lekku twitching irately. _Nicknames and everything, sheesh._ “Socorro,” she pointed out on the projection. “It’s not on the Turnaround’s actual trajectory, but it’ll take us close enough to where we can reach it in a few hours, tops.”

Maul shook his head. “Nothing but… pirates and… rocks,” he said. Apparently, he couldn’t help but adding commentary anyway, breathing be damned. Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

“Seylott.”

“More pirates,” the Zabrak said, frowning. “Black Sun… controls it.”

Ahsoka tilted her head to the side, looking at the Nightbrother curiously. “Didn’t _you_ control the Black Sun at some point? Wouldn’t they aid you?”

To this, Maul grinned, his features fierce and wicked. “Not likely,” he said, “didn’t part on… good terms.”

“I’ll bet,” she replied, and returned her attention to her gauntlet. “Mumble’s Turnaround will eventually take us just past Savareen, although we could get there directly if we take the Turnaround to Ryloth and from there jump on the Corellian Run at the junction. Savareen is similar to Ryloth in that the planet has few resources and fewer technology, but I have allies there. A friend who might be able to help.”

“Is your… friend a surgeon?”

Ahsoka fixated the Zabrak in place with a deadpan look. “No,” she answered stonily, “but they lead the Cloud-Raiders. They may have access to more advanced medical technology, maybe even a surgical droid.”

Maul coughed out a harsh laugh. “You mean the… Cloud-Raiders… who fought… so vehemently… against the Crimson Dawn?”

Ahsoka frowned. He had a point. “Everyone thought Vos was the leader of that organization,” she mused. “Very few of us knew the truth.”

“Will you… _lie_ to your friend?” the Zabrak asked, his grin widening. At Ahsoka’s obvious discomfort, he shook his head. “Didn’t… think so.” He then closed his eyes and took a few shallow breaths. “In… either case,” he added, “you wouldn’t… need to lie. Enfys Nest is… familiar with me. Smart kid... wants my… head.”

“That’s a no, then?” the Togruta pouted. “There’s really nowhere else close by. We could try to get to Rodia, which is farther out, but it would take too long to get there, even if we used the Run to bypass the extra stops of the Turnaround.” She paused as she studied the map projection further. “Although…” she said thoughtfully, more to herself than Maul, “the distance between Rodia and Tatooine is really much shorter than even Ryloth. There’s just no direct space lane.”

“Too much… space debris…” the Dathomirian muttered, eyes still closed, “for hyperspace travel… to be safe. Besides,” he winced as he adjusted himself on the table, and opened his eyes into a squint, observing her, “with its… ties to the… Empire, I’d have… a better chance… with Nest.”

“Rodia is a part of the New Republic now,” Ahsoka countered with a frown. “They only remained as part of the Empire by force, as so many other worlds did. They helped the Rebellion during the Civil War.”

“The… _people_ did,” Maul replied. “Their government… did not.” Seeing as how he still seemed to have more to say, Ahsoka waited for him to continue. After catching his breath again, the Sith stated, “the Rodians… opposed the… resolution to… aid Jakku. They have been… in the pocket… of cartels… since the days… of the Empire.” He grinned again at the end before adding, “I should know.”

Ahsoka shook her head. “Then I’m out of ideas, and you’re out of options. Where am I supposed to take you? Iskalon? Vergesso? Those are even further out along the Turnaround, and I’m not even sure that asteroid is in the sector at the moment.” She ran a hand over the back of her montrals, exasperated. She knew all of Maul’s objections were actually valid: there really was no easy approach to this mess. She wasn’t sure how he was current in his knowledge about the political affairs of the surrounding planetary systems, but she assumed he had some type of communication network in place still. Which led her to an idea. “Don’t you have allies somewhere still who might help you?” she asked. “The Crimson Dawn does have _some_ presence in Savareen.”

“I lost all… ties to the… underground… after my… isolation on… Malachor,” the Sith explained. He was sounding more winded by the minute. “Even Qi’Ra believes… I’m dead. Better to… keep it that way.”

“In that case, all we have is what I suggested.” Ahsoka stated. “Rodia _is_ the planet with the most advanced civilization nearby and is guaranteed to have the necessary equipment and personnel to treat your wound. Still, it’s also the furthest out, unless we bypass the hyperspace routes completely.” The former Padawan bit her lip, staring at the holograph projection. “If I make several small jumps…”

“How will you… manage that?” the Zabrak growled. “Do you… _know_ where the… debris will be? It’s a… floating scrapyard… out there.”

“Well, I know where the Tatoo system dumps their junk,” Ahsoka replied, frowning. “I can do a jump from here onto the outskirts of the system, then I’ll have to fly past that deposit area before jumping into hyperspace. I also know more or less where the Tyrius system ejects _their_ trash, too, so I can stop the ship before those coordinates, approximately, and navigate through the field. Then it’s just a quick, clear jump to Rodia.” She was aware that she was making it sound a lot easier than it actually was, and that was more for her own peace of mind than the Nightbrother’s. Maul saw right through it, however, and he shook his head slightly. Ahsoka noticed how feeble his movements were becoming.

“The debris is… always moving,” he mumbled, his head beginning to droop tiredly.

 _“I know that,”_ the Togruta snapped, enlarging the hologram on her gauntlet as much as she could. “This latest Atlas shows the primary deposits from both systems, and over the years, several different clusters have formed that are held mostly in place by the suns’ gravitational pull, leaving them in a type of limbo. It’s doable. Tricky, yeah, but possible. No more difficult than navigating an asteroid belt. It would also take less than half of the time of taking the hyperspace lanes.” Upon saying this, she finally switched off the projection and let her arm drop down to her side, allowing her to observe the wounded Zabrak properly. His skin looked ashen and his eyes were taking on that glassy look again. _No,_ she told herself, _he definitely doesn’t have enough time left for me to take the normal travel routes._

Maul only grunted softly in reply. Decided, Ahsoka walked back briskly and took the captain’s seat once more. Now that she had determined a plan, she felt more alert, despite the lack of sleep. Punching in the coordinates on the navigational computer, she gunned all three engines and sped off, putting as much distance between her craft and the planet so she could enter hyperspace. She needed to be clear of the moons before doing so. She was travelling from nearly the center of the solar system – Tatooine was the first planet in the system’s orbit – so the first jump would take a few minutes. Thankfully, the Tatoo system wasn’t too large, so it wouldn’t be _too_ long of a wait.

Partway through the jump, she heard Maul cough again as he struggled to breathe deeply enough. She got up quickly from her seat and went to check on him: she knew the ship would pull out of hyperspace on its own, and the next leg of their trip would require her undivided attention. Better to ensure his well-being now, and make sure he didn’t become a distraction later.

Of course, he was still conscious, his eyes scrunched shut and brow furrowed in consternation. He could feel himself weakening, she knew. Gently, she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched immediately.

“No…” he growled, opening his golden eyes to glare at her. “Not pity. Give me… something to… _hate.”_

Ahsoka blinked, surprised and a bit confused. “I… I don’t understand what you mean,” she stammered, but that wasn’t completely true. She thought she knew; she just didn’t want to believe it.

“Through passion…” he muttered, “I gain _strength.”_

“By that, you mean… powerful emotions? That’ll keep you awake?”

“Hate me.”

“Tough break, old man,” she replied, meeting his fiery gaze with a cool stare. “I don’t operate that way. I’m not sure I _can_ hate anyone, not even an asshole like you.”

“Then… pain,” he replied, straining a bit against the straps holding him down. “Give me… pain.”

“How?” Ahsoka said, flinching. “That is absurd, I won’t!”

“Then I… die.”

“Can’t your kyber crystals fuel you anymore?”

“Not… fuel,” the Dathomirian said irately. “They are… only tools… aiding in focus.”

The former Padawan frowned thoughtfully. “Right, they help focus your will, connect you to the Force, like an extension of your being. Much like they are for the Jedi, I suppose.” She looked around herself helplessly. “I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do, honestly,” she said at last.

“Hurt me!”

Ahsoka balked, removing her hand from the Dathomirian’s shoulder. “I already told you: I can’t. It’s not in me.”

The Zabrak glowered at her, his lips pulled back into a snarl. “Punch me… or bite me,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Better yet… stab your fingers… into the blasted hole… in my chest!”

The Togruta could feel the blood drain from her face and she shuddered. “N-no…” she stammered, suddenly nauseous. What kind of sick Sith technique was this‽ “You… you told me that as long as you were determined to live, your will would be enforced by those kyber crystals, by the Dark Side of the Force! Isn’t that what you meant back at the hut? So, find it in _yourself_ to stay alive, and leave me out of it!”

Maul nodded. “My body… grows numb,” he explained. “I… cannot feel… anything… anymore. And my… conscious mind… is slipping.” He looked at her with anxious eyes, and Ahsoka couldn’t meet his gaze. She turned away with a wince. “Hurt me…” he repeated. “Give me… something to _hate…”_

“I’m sure you _already_ hate me,” Ahsoka muttered, her face still averted. “So how about you focus on _that?”_

“I don’t… hate you… nearly enough,” the Zabrak replied. To which the former Jedi chanced a glance at him, incredulous. “You are… insufferable, but not at… Kenobi’s level… yet.” Ahsoka was shocked to see the Dathomirian attempting to smile at her. Was he trying to make a joke? There was genuine fear in his dreadful Sith eyes, and his lips trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly. The Togruta felt a knot form in her throat once more. “Please…” he whispered, and even from where she stood, she could hear his shame in that barely audible murmur.

She wanted to walk away from him just then, as she had back on Tatooine. What he was asking of her was ludicrous, awful, repulsive. Desperate. He _was_ dying; she recognized as much. It was an all too familiar sensation she had felt decades before, during the execution of Order 66, and afterwards as well, as surviving Jedi were hunted down and slaughtered, as well as any Force-sensitives who resisted their induction into the Inquisitorius program. She had even sensed that same awful emotion when Alderaan was destroyed by the Death Star. It was the feeling of a Force-sensitive life extinguishing. As time went on, and with fewer and fewer of them left, each death sent a ripple through the Cosmic Force that reached her. She had felt when Obi-Wan had died, and Master Yoda… even when Anakin killed the Emperor and himself along with his master. Sensing it begin again, now with Maul… although he was a Dark Side user – a Sith, all that was left of Sidious’s lineage – it still made her stomach turn. She couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ allow herself to walk away again. If someone needed help… no matter what that aid required of her…

Ahsoka didn’t let herself think. Tears sprang up to her eyes and spilled out freely as she leaned forward and buried her face in the crook of Maul’s neck. He smelled awful: of sweat and dirt and durasteel and… something just as metallic, blood. Shaking uncontrollably, she jabbed the pad of her thumb hard just above the wound in his sternum, where hours before, not knowing how serious his condition was, she had stabbed her index finger at him in anger. The fruit pulp and coagulated blood made her hand slip down more than she had intended, and she felt the flesh give where the bone and cartilage were shattered. By the stars, she felt a splinter of bone poke at her digit before imbedding itself deeper into the Zabrak’s chest. The Sith’s body stiffened in response and his spine arced, a dreadful howl escaping his lips as he strained against the table’s fastenings. His cry rang in her montrals and she couldn’t stop a sob from overtaking her. She could hear his teeth grinding together in pain, and she brought her other hand up to his face instinctively, stroking his cheek with trembling fingers. What had she done, _what had she done‽_

Just then, she felt the carmine crystals clenched tightly in his fists emit a burst of dark energy, but this was quickly diverted towards the Nightbrother’s chest, becoming one with his Life Force, and yes, fueling him, empowering him. That energy brushed past her own aura as it rushed into him, and Ahsoka was stunned to find it was rather warm – repugnant, yes, but comforting all the same. Like the slimy wet tongue of domestic livestock: foul but harmless. Perhaps because it wasn’t aimed at her, and not meant to harm, but rather to heal, or at least maintain an inert state of the Zabrak’s lesion.

All of these things happened in an instant. The Togruta barely had time to register what had transpired – what she had made herself do – before she was suddenly hurled back away from the Sith by that same dark energy. That time, however, it _was_ meant to hurt her, and she hit the cabinet opposite the med bay with a loud crash.

On the metal slab, the Dathomirian remained still, his chest heaving as fresh blood sprang forth from the wound. After a few seconds, it had ceased to bleed. His breathing steadied once more, and Ahsoka could swear there was a look of satisfaction, almost pleasure on his features through the pain. It truly made her feel sick. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, he muttered, “My apologies… Lady Tano.”

Ahsoka didn’t answer, and she didn’t pick herself up right away either, instead curling up into a sitting position and wrapping her arms around her knees. She buried her face in her arms to stifle out her weeping but didn’t do a very good job of it. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, and not for the first time, she wished she were far away from the Nightbrother. Now _she_ smelled like blood, too, as the front of her shirt and her hand were smeared with it. _Monster,_ she thought. _He’s a monster, and now, so am I._ The thought caused her to dry heave.

Just then, the shuttle’s navigational computer beeped a warning. They were about to exit hyperspace. On unsteady feet, the former Jedi made her way to the captain’s chair and buckled herself in. She didn’t worry about Maul: he was strapped down tightly enough.

She had taken control of the shuttle not a moment too soon, for just as they exited warp speed, the Togruta was greeted by floating rubble. Apparently, the debris cloud created by Tatoo’s waste had moved just a bit closer to the system than the IGA predicted, probably due to the pull of its dual suns. Ahsoka was forced to perform evasive maneuvers almost at once, for which she was honestly thankful, as it kept her thoughts from lingering on the wounded Dathomirian.

Fortunately, she was able to manipulate the T-6 around the dump site without much problem. Tatooine was a barren planet, with not many resources to use up, so the culture had developed to fully make use of anything available: from mechanical components to perishables, clothing, and weapons. By the time an item ended up being dumped, it had really been put to use on the planet. Because Tatooine’s people weren’t so wasteful, their floating junkyard was rather small compared to others throughout the galaxy, and the trash that was there was nearly disintegrated already. She was clear of the largest obstacles in less than half an hour. A few minutes more, and all that remained ahead of her ship was the blackness of space.

Pulling up the Atlas again, the Togruta studied her coordinates. Chances were, if Tatoo’s floating scrapheap had shifted more than the IGA assumed, so would the one just outside Tyrius. She adjusted her hyperjump trajectory to compensate for possible anomalies, shortening the jump by less than a parsec. This might add as much as an extra hour of travel time, depending on the amount of space junk she encountered when they arrived, but it was a necessary precaution she needed to take. No use in reaching their destination just to damage the shuttle and leave them stranded in the outskirts of the system. If that happened, it might take days, even weeks before another vessel was able to pick them up. The Zabrak would be dead by then for sure. Ahsoka frowned. She really didn’t want to think about Maul.

She activated the hyperdrive immediately after, and once the ship was on its way, she unbuckled herself and rose from the seat. She walked past the med bay briskly without bothering to cast even a glance in Maul’s direction. There was no need to: without looking, she could tell the Sith was in a more stable condition than before. Not only could she sense the darkness thickening around him but could hear his breath coming forth in a steadier rhythm. And truth be told, she didn’t _want_ to see him. Instead, she headed down the short hallway towards her quarters. She needed a shower, or at least a change of clothes. This second leg of the trip was going to take a bit longer, so she knew she had the time.

The refresher aboard her ship was small and plain, and originally the small shower stall only offered the sonic option. However, Ahsoka had long ago made enhancements herself and added jets that ejected water at varying pressures and temperatures. She was aware that sonic showers were probably the quicker and more hygienic of the alternatives, but there was simply something about feeling hot water washing away grime and sweat that a sonic couldn’t duplicate. The powerful pressure streams helped to relax tired muscles and there was nothing better than heat and steam to open up pores and help skin feel raw and clean. Ahsoka was really looking forward to losing herself in the stall for a while.

Upon entering her quarters, she grabbed a pair of clean pants and a top, then headed for the refresher down the hall. Although she was at first delighted to enter the washing stall and begin her shower, only a few minutes had passed before the guilt she had been ignoring for so long began to seep back into her mind. She wondered how the Zabrak must feel, alone on the cold metal slab. As the hot streams of water and floral-scented disinfectant washed away her sweat and traces of his blood, she realized Maul himself was still rather grimy, and couldn’t do anything except lay there in his own stink. She wrinkled her nose at the memory of his scent – sour and metallic – when she’d pressed her face against his neck. A flush rose up to her lekku and cheeks, and it wasn’t due to the scalding water. How was she supposed to enjoy a good cleansing when he was wounded, dying at that, in his own spit and blood and sweat? Ahsoka rubbed at her face and montrals, but that only caused her pain when her fingers passed over the tender spot on her temple where the Dathomirian had punched her. Yeah, she would need to take serum for that. Damn it all, she shouldn’t _need_ to feel guilty! Her emotions kept fluctuating between anger and pity, with a good dose of self-loathing. She couldn't get his pained howl out of her head when she had… She began retching again, and hot tears mingled with the water vapor. Never in her life had she felt so filthy, and she realized that no setting on the shower stall would make her feel unsullied again. Not for a while, at least.

In the end, she gave up trying to enjoy the cleanse, and left the stall no sooner had the warm air dried her just enough to where she was no longer dripping. Her skin still felt damp, and her clean clothes stuck to her a bit, but she didn’t care. She put her headdress back on before walking out of the room. She briefly considered giving her utility vibroblade that much-needed chem-rinse, but knew she was only stalling for time, to keep herself from facing the felled Sith again. Not to mention, that guilt wouldn’t leave her be, for what kind of person would give priority to equipment over a living being? Reluctantly, she headed back to the med-bay.

Maul was still laying on the medical table where she’d left him. (Of course he was, where else was he supposed to go? His wound rendered him practically immobile, and even if he’d had the energy to move about, she’d taken the precaution to strap him down, hadn’t she?) Ahsoka felt his eyes following her as she approached the area, and as she went to the supply cabinet right beside the table to remove a vial of the healing fluid and downed it in one gulp.

“Feeling better?” the Zabrak asked, his voice back to its natural smoothness. If she had remained with her back to him and not known in what mangled state his body was in, she would have assumed he was fine. If anything, his volume was just a few decibels lower than his normal speaking range. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at herself. What did she even _know_ about what Maul normally sounded like? Just because she’d had run-ins with him a couple of times over the years meant nothing. Which made her take pause. Now that she thought about it, she really _didn’t_ know much about the Dathomirian, save for the few tidbits Obi-Wan and Anakin had warned her about when she was still working with the Jedi Order.

“I see… you’re back to… ignoring me.”

Ahsoka spun around and glared at the Zabrak, her lekku flushing a bit despite herself. She actually hadn’t meant to not answer him. Although she wasn’t keen on having a conversation either, she had simply gotten lost in her own thoughts. She didn’t even know what to say to him. The situation at hand was just too awkward. “I’m not ignoring you,” she muttered, stooping down and opening one of the compartments beneath the table. “Although I _should.”_

She took a pack of moist disinfectant wipes from the drawer and kept her eyes fixated on them so she wouldn’t have to look at Maul when she asked, “So, um, you’re an absolute mess –”

“Thank you,” the Sith said, sounding amused. “Very… perceptive of you.”

Ahsoka pursed her lips to keep herself from snapping at him. “You want me to wipe that grit off your face or not?” she demanded, uncomfortably aware at her own newly pristine state. She chanced a glance at him and felt her face and lekku blush once more, feeling embarrassed and inadequate. “I mean, may I? That… that can’t feel good at all, wallowing in your own fluids.”

“There is a… gaping hole… bigger than… my fist… shattering my chest,” he replied, but his tone wasn’t accusatory. “The cleanliness of my face… does not concern me… just now.”

The Togruta winced. Of course, he was right about that, but there was nothing else she could do for him at the moment. She fidgeted in place, wondering what to say. By the stars, when was the last time she had _fidgeted?_ She felt as insecure as a temple youngling. Before she _could_ say anything, though, Maul rolled his eyes and sighed. “Jedi altruism,” he muttered, then offered up a half-shrug. “Go ahead.”

Ahsoka let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in and her shoulders relaxed a bit. She understood what the Zabrak had implied by mentioning the Jedi’s teachings: much like the black melon pulp remedy she had used to attempt to patch him up, cleaning off Maul’s face was more for her own benefit than his. It gave her something to do that would placate her conscience, for although she knew there was no reason for her to feel guilty over what had occurred, her empathetic nature and yes, the morals with which the Order had raised her, made her feel responsible to some degree anyway.

She stepped up closer to the table to where she could feel the cold durasteel of the edge press into her upper thighs. Removing one of the damp cloths from the packet, she leaned forward as she reached towards the Dathomirian’s face and began to wipe at his brow. She did her best to ignore the sensation of his warm skin through the material, for it oddly humanized him, made him seem less like a beast in her eyes and more like any other poor schlep she’d run into over the years. She didn’t want to think that beneath the malevolent exterior, behind those golden-red eyes of the Dark Side was a person, a sentient being like any other. With hopes and dreams? _Ambitions,_ she corrected herself, frowning. One of those involved her death, she was sure. Why did she need to keep reminding herself?

All too soon, the first wipe was filthy, and Ahsoka hadn’t even cleaned beyond Maul’s forehead and temples. She made a grimace of disgust as she set that one aside and fished another out of the pack in her other hand. “Dwang, did you _ever_ bathe on Tatooine‽” she grumbled under her breath, not really expecting an answer.

 _“No one_ bathes… on Tatooine,” the Nightbrother replied. “Sonics or… abrasion showers… is all you get.”

“Right,” Ahsoka said, her lekku quivering, irate with herself. “Desert planet. My bad.”

She cleaned off his eyelids and the area around them, taking her time to get the tiny particles of sand out of all the little crevices. She wanted to keep those eyes closed, so he wouldn’t look at her with that unnervingly _un_ hateful stare. When he beheld her, there was a combination of amusement and curiosity in his gaze, a type of begrudging patience mingled with… goodness knows what. It wasn’t animosity, or even anger, and this is what threw her off. She realized he’d _always_ looked at her in that fashion, ever since she’d met him on Mandalore, when he’d held an outstretched hand towards her in an offer she almost took. Almost.

Maul held absolutely still as Ahsoka continued to wipe the rest of his face clean. It was until after she had cleansed away the blood and spit, sweat and dirt that she noticed he had small burns on one side of his face, and she remembered that she’d knocked him into a bonfire headfirst.

“I can put a bacta patch on that,” she offered, gesturing to the lesions once she was done. She used a final towelette – she used up a total of nine – to wipe her hands and pick up the others to throw them in the medical waste disposal unit.

The Zabrak shook his head. “Won’t work,” he muttered, shrugging. “The technique… keeping me alive… nullifies all of my body’s… reactions to… external stimuli. Allowing only… time for the body… to mend itself. For good or ill.”

Ahsoka quietly considered his words and in the end, shook her head. The Dark Side was a cruel enigma to her, a mystery she didn’t want to unravel. How anyone could live adherent to that philosophy was beyond her understanding.

“You should sleep,” Maul suddenly said, bringing her out of her musings. “Would… do you well.”

Ahsoka shot the Zabrak a skeptic look, to which he chuckled. “No… ulterior motives,” he assured her. “Just trying to… get us _both_ out of… an uncomfortable situation.”

Well, that made some sense to her, she supposed, although she was a bit surprised that the Dathomirian would admit to feeling anything but smugness since they ran into each other again. He certainly hadn’t demonstrated anything but. And she _was_ tired. The serum had helped – a lot. She could already feel the swelling at her temple going down significantly, but she knew she _did_ need the rest. She hadn’t slept for nearly three standard days… or was it four? Even before reaching Tatooine, she had been restless. Sabine had worried that Ahsoka wouldn’t get any sleep at all once they parted ways, for the young Mandalorian would go out of her way to ensure the Togruta spent a few hours each rotation resting. “Who’s going to make sure you eat and sleep regularly?” the girl had worried as she transferred her belongings into her new ship. “You always forget about those things. You can’t sustain yourself on only the Force or whatever.”

Ahsoka looked at the Zabrak and sighed wearily. “Yeah, okay,” she assented. “Doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“I’d be offended… if you did,” Maul replied.

The former Jedi scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “Please,” she commented lightheartedly, “as if you know the meaning of shame.” She had grinned before she even realized it, only noticing she had when the Nightbrother returned the smirk. A bit flustered, she backed away from the med bay and turned her back on the table before he could see her lekku flashing their stripes more vividly. “I’ll be in my quarters,” she called over her shoulder as she walked down the short hallway, then instantly chastised herself for even letting him know. _What the skrog is wrong with you, Ahsoka Tano?_ Seriously, she had done a better job at acting hostile towards the Zabrak back when she was a teenager, facing off against him on Mandalore. Why was it so hard for her to do so now, years later, _after_ she knew firsthand of all the atrocities he was capable of?

As the door to her quarters slid shut behind her, she thought over this new development. The more she contemplated things, she concluded that it was partly due to the lack of Force-sensitives left in the galaxy. That must be it, right? When Ahsoka had fought Maul and his Death Watch on Mandalore, the Jedi Order was still in power, or at least there was the semblance of it. Sidious hadn’t yet set his final play in motion, and the Togruta had felt the reassurance of so many Jedi souls around her, vibrating with the Light Side of the Force. Even as Order 66 was carried out – including on the Star Destroyer she and Maul were in – the weight and impact of that event was still too raw and new for her to process. Not to mention, there was the adrenaline rush from having her friends suddenly turn on her – even Rex! – and attempt to kill her. It wasn’t until much later, after the mass burials for the fallen Clone Troopers, after she and Rex had faked their own deaths and gone into hiding, that Ahsoka finally felt the vast emptiness in the Force. So many lives extinguished within hours, some taking days to die… yet die they all did. Or most did, anyway. Over the years, she had encountered Force-sensitives here and there, but the occasions were few and far between. And yet whenever she met someone strong in the Force, her aura reverberated with a type of joyous recognition she could not contain. She had felt this way with Kanan, Ezra and Grogu, and even felt a dampened version of this emotion – more akin to relief, actually – when confronting the Inquisitorius, although they were her enemy. That connection was there too, albeit wrapped in pain and anguish, when she had faced off against Vader. And with Maul…

There was a definite significance regarding the Zabrak, though it was not entirely pleasant. Aside from the recognition her Living Force prickled with when encountering another Force-sensitive like herself, Maul was also a link to her past. So many things had changed since she last encountered him on Malachor: Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Anakin were all dead – the Emperor, too. An entire oppressive system of government had begun to crumble, and for a while, chaos ruled in areas of the Mid and Outer Rims. Things were so different now, that there were instances where Ahsoka could no longer reconcile that this was the same galaxy that had once known overall prosperity and peace. Although she was by no means old in terms of her species’ lifespan, she felt _ancient_ most of the time. Old and weary. The only times this sensation was washed away was when she occasionally met with Rex, although seeing the Clone Commander wither away so quickly due to his accelerated aging was always heartbreaking for her. She knew that sooner rather than later, her friend – possibly her last friend from her youth – would be gone. Jedi teachings dictated that she must accept this fact and let her emotions be washed away when the time came, but she wasn’t too sure she would handle it all that well. For all she had advised little Grogu that he must be careful with attachments, Ahsoka knew she clung to her past more than she should.

Which is where Maul came in. Again, he was a presence from her teenage years, and although she had met him just as the world fell, he still represented some part of her past that was otherwise lost to her. For months after Order 66, she had been plagued by memories of the Emperor’s first apprentice, of his words of warning to her on Mandalore, of the fear and despair in those otherwise wicked Sith eyes. Although she never regretted her loyalty to Anakin Skywalker – even after learning what he had become – she had often wondered how things would have turned out had she accepted some type of truce with the Nightbrother. On Malachor, she had realized that she had made the right choice in refusing an alliance when she saw how easily he manipulated not just her and Kanan, but Ezra, whom she had grown fond of rather quickly since meeting, and therefore, protective over. Yet she had still been drawn to the Dathomirian. (That voice, damn it, _that voice!)_ It had almost been _fun,_ battling him in that Sith temple; she’d rather felt like a teenager again.

Running into him now, after the world had seemingly ended again, had brought it all home for her. There was still a mutual dislike, obviously, but it was a familiar distrust. She remembered their fight outside Obi-Wan’s home: how it had almost felt like a dance to her, a rhythmic clash that – had it not been for the bled kyber crystals’ malevolent interference – she had to admit to herself now that she would have enjoyed. Maul was comfortable, a relationship whose parameters she understood. It was there, down to the banter and her sarcastic attitude. She wasn’t truly afraid that Maul would kill her, although she knew he meant to. She was more concerned over how he would influence her due to her casualness around him. There was also one other thing.

In the previous times that Ahsoka had run into the Dark Side user – both directly in combat and _indirectly_ as her spy network clashed at times with Maul’s Crimson Dawn – she had always sensed a deep rage brewing within the Nightbrother. He detested Obi-Wan, feared Vader, loathed his former master, the Emperor, and was disdainful towards her and other Light Side users, yet the connecting fibers in all these relationships was ire. It was his strongest driving force, his source of power in the Dark Side. Ahsoka had always sensed it emanating from him more than any other emotion. Yet now… other than the moment when he subjugated the kyber crystals in his broken saberstaff, that anger was strangely absent. Well, true, she _did_ feel his temper flare up when she bit his arm, and he had offered up all types of glares in her direction during their interactions, but it was significantly muted. It made him… less despicable, she supposed, more approachable. Against her better judgement, she realized that part of her was _glad_ he was still alive. It made her _really_ dislike herself at the moment.

Ahsoka made her way numbly to her bed, as she had been going over these things while standing tiredly against the closed door. She sank down into the cot, her shoulders sagging. There was no point in mentally torturing herself about any of these things. They would reach Rodia in a few hours anyway, and once Maul was patched up, she could hand him over to the NRC authorities and be done with it. She’d keep the saberstaff, purge the crystals and go back to her life of traveling this ever-changing landscape that was the galaxy, finding a greater purpose than herself by helping those in need. Perhaps she would find her way to Sabine again, help in the search for Ezra and Thrawn.

_Hmm… Maul offered to help find Ezra, too._

She dismissed the notion quickly as she lay back and looked up at the ceiling. Despite her many racing thoughts and unsettled emotions, she drifted off quickly into a dreamless sleep the instant she closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *meant* the gory part, okay? Sorry if it made anyone uncomfortable. Took me a while to crank out this chapter, but at least it's the longest one yet.
> 
> Originally, this story was only supposed to be four chapters long, but kinda like Ahsoka's thoughts, I tend to meander. According to my mental outline of this story, I'm now at six chapters, possibly seven. Which means, hang on to your butts, because I'll probably end up writing ten. *rolls eyes*
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think of the story so far! Any suggestions to better my storytelling skills is greatly appreciated!


	5. Presage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka obtains aid for her immediate problem, but can she trust those offering it?
> 
> Plus: more of Maul's deathbed backchat. (Seriously, how long can a dying guy yak for‽)

It was the sound of the navigational computer, bleeping a warning that they were about to exit lightspeed in a few minutes, that awoke the Togruta. Startled, she sat straight up in her cot, blinking back the sleep-haze that still tugged lazily at her mind, inviting her to lie back down. Ahsoka got up hastily from the bed and made her way back to the cockpit on blundering legs. Had she really slept the _entire_ hyperspace jump? It had been months since she’d had a full, hours-long uninterrupted sleep. Exhaustion had finally caught up to her, it seemed. Well, that, and she was sure the serum she had taken had had something to do with it. Her head felt infinitely better, and her entire body, in fact, seemed restored.

As she walked past the med bay, she cast a glance at the Zabrak. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was awake, for his brow was furrowed slightly, as though concentrating. He acknowledged her presence with a small nod in her direction as she moved past. Ahsoka wondered how badly _he_ must need to sleep.

She decided not to let her thoughts dwell on the wounded Dathomirian and slid into the pilot’s chair, securing herself and taking the controls just as the T-6 chimed a final warning. The exit from hyperspace was smoother this time around, partly due to the adjustments in trajectory she had made earlier, and also because she was far more alert and prepared than before.

The dump site for the Tyrius system was far larger and denser than the one from Tatoo. The single sun was rather small and had a weaker gravitational pull than was typical. This meant the solar system itself was more diminutive than most, with only five planets orbiting the primary. However, three of these globes had a significant number of satellites around them, and save for Mikak, the first planet in the orbit, all sustained some form of civilization. This meant a total of 37 populations throughout the system ejected their trash onto the outermost edge of the heliocentric cluster, counting on Tyrius’s magnetic pull to keep the cloud of junk from floating away completely. Also, due to the benefits Rodia had always enjoyed from being a part of the Republic – and later, the Empire – the government had not nurtured the humbler societal structure of worlds such as Tatooine. Being from the Outer Rim, Rodians had a difficult time fitting into the lavish society of the Core systems, and often wanted to make the impression on the rest of the galaxy that they were, indeed, as cultured and sophisticated as the populations of Coruscant and Chandrila. This became more markedly obvious after the death of Senator Onaconda Farr during the waning days of the Galactic Republic, as the Rodian Grand Protector purposefully replaced Farr with weak-willed sycophants in an attempt to appease the increasingly aggressive Supreme Chancellor, who, unbeknownst to almost everyone at the time, was in reality the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious. During the time of the Empire, the originally tribal culture of Rodia became one of extreme free-market capitalism, focusing on the importance of buying and distracting their ever-oppressed people with flashy electronics, gaudy fashion and cheaply made trinkets that easily broke down. It became a society of disposable entertainment. “Dump the junk!” was a catchphrase Ahsoka often heard from Rodians pretty much in regard to anything. Don’t want to eat that? Are those clothes out of style? Need a change of décor? Meanwhile, the lower echelons of their society suffered in silence. It was no wonder so many underprivileged Rodians joined the Rebellion.

Even now, years after the Emperor’s death, the culture of Rodia was still struggling to find the right balance between living an advanced technological civilization and rediscovering their heritage. Sadly, the central government of the planet wasn’t doing much to help, mainly fearing any retribution for their own violations against their people during the time of the Galactic Empire. She knew Maul was right to distrust Rodian leadership. The current Grand Protector, Navik the Red of Chattza Clan, was little more than a glorified warlord who had more Rodian blood on his hands than even the Empire. The senator he appointed to represent his planet in the New Republic, Dor Wieedo, had compromised morals as well, having sold out his vote on at least one occasion to criminal syndicates. Ahsoka was aware of all this, and yet she felt she had little choice but to solicit their aid.

It took her more than three times as long to navigate the shuttle through this field of space debris as opposed to the one around Tatoo, and there were occasions where she had near misses with large clusters of the floating rubble. She emerged from the area pretty much unscathed, save for a few dings in the hull, with maybe some paint chipping off. Once she was completely cleared of the dump site, she sat back in the chair and bit her lower lip. This next part was likely going to be more stressful to her than what she’d just piloted through. She detested politics. She remembered how both Obi-Wan and Anakin had often told her that Jedi didn’t do well when mingling in governmental affairs. Still, there was nothing else she could do at the moment. Her personal funds were nearly spent, and regardless, she’d need the clout that came from the New Republic authorities. She was no Ranger, and therefore had no standing within the Coalition, but she knew people who _did_ hold sway. She didn’t like calling in favors, but that was the only alternative she had.

After she entered the encryption code into her shuttle’s subspace transceiver, she waited anxiously for the signal to clear. A few moments of tense waiting were rewarded with the notification that the code had been accepted, and the communication channels would soon open. Once the connection was established, a fuzzy three-dimensional image emerged from the T-6’s holoprojector. An older woman with short, straight hair and an aura of dignified elegance looked warmly upon Ahsoka with large eyes.

“Ah, Fulcrum,” the woman said, nodding. “It’s been a while since I’ve received a message on this frequency. I hope all is well with you.”

“Madam Chancellor,” Ahsoka replied with a slight bow of her head. “Believe me that I would not have reached out to you in this manner if it could have been avoided.” She took a steadying breath before continuing, “I have an urgent request.”

“The Rebellion – and therefore the New Republic – owes you much, Agent Fulcrum. Even if that were not so, because of the high esteem and trust my good friends Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala held you in, I am of course at your service.”

Ahsoka sighed and offered up a weak smile. “Well,” she began, “hear out my request first. It’s… a complicated matter, and quite dangerous, too.” She cast a glance over her shoulder in the direction of the med bay. “I have apprehended a criminal, someone who is wanted for several crimes throughout various star systems. I believe he will be sought after by several groups once they learn he is still alive.”

“This individual… he has been presumed dead?”

“For years now, since before the fall of the Empire. I think it best if I surrender him directly to you on Chandrila.”

Mon Mothma nodded, her eyes thoughtful. “Do you require an escort to the Core?”

“No, Madam,” the Togruta replied. “I wish things were so simple. How… how secure is this transmission at the moment?”

“I am alone in my private chambers, Ahsoka,” the woman replied. “As you know, no one has access to this frequency save for those within the Fulcrum network, and – may I add – it has remained rather inactive for a long time now. Please, speak freely.”

“It’s Maul,” the former Jedi explained, leaning forward, her voice at a hushed whisper in spite of herself. Mon Mothma’s eyes widened, and the older woman brought a hand up to her mouth in a gesture of surprise. Ahsoka continued rapidly, “I wounded him, gravely, and have him secured aboard my ship. His situation is dire; if he doesn’t receive proper medical treatment, he will _really_ be dead before a standard rotation is up.”

The Chancellor’s features relaxed, visible even through the static-ridden hologram. “Rest assured, no system in the galaxy would consider pressing prosecution charges on you regarding his death. Darth Maul is not only considered a fugitive of the law due to his many crimes as an underground mob boss, but for his ties to Palpatine. Make your way to Chandrila at once. You will be hailed as a hero for aiding us in finally ridding the galaxy of this filth.”

“No,” Ahsoka protested, shaking her head, “you don’t understand. I need him _alive,_ Chancellor. I’m not trying to end his life; I’m trying to save it.”

At Mon Mothma’s quizzical look, the Togruta explained, “Maul’s reputation as a Sith Lord – the last of them now – is well known, even to those in the underground. When I encountered him, we fought over the possession of an immensely powerful artifact, imbued heavily with the Dark Side of the Force. I… failed to take it from him.”

“Well, when he dies –”

“I cannot control the item,” Ahsoka interrupted. “It took a toll on my body, physically, just to be able to handle it. Yet he subdued it with seemingly no difficulty at all, or any side-effects. In fact, he’s using it now to keep himself alive.”

The older woman nodded sagely. “So… you have reached an impasse.”

“Complete stalemate.” Ahsoka grumbled. “I’ve come to believe that if I attempt to destroy this item on my own, it will kill me, and I will likely die without even managing to nullify its power. It cannot be wielded by any Force-sensitive who adheres to the Light. Only a Dark Side user – a Sith – can destroy it. I’m nearly sure of it.”

“If this artifact is keeping the Zabrak alive, what makes you believe he will agree to eradicating it?”

“Of course he won’t agree to it,” the former Padawan said with a shrug. “Not willingly, anyway. But before I get to demand his cooperation, I need to make sure he lives long enough for me to coerce him into it.”

Mon Mothma was quiet for a while. Ahsoka held her breath as the woman thought the situation over. She didn’t want to rush the Chancellor, but she was anxious. The human’s approval was imperative, both due to her sway over the ruling government of Rodia, as well as the financial backing Ahsoka was about to ask for Maul’s emergency treatment.

“This is a risky venture, Ahsoka Tano,” Mon Mothma said at last. _Uh-oh,_ the Togruta thought, pouting slightly, _full-name use. Not the best sign._ “If the New Republic manages to save Darth Maul from death, only to have him break free and remain at large in the galaxy…”

“I won’t allow it,” Ahsoka assured the woman quickly, her voice fierce and determined.

“You cannot guarantee that,” the older woman replied measuredly.

“Madam Chancellor,” the former Jedi said firmly, “I have fought Maul on several occasions before, and bested him in combat each time. Including now.” This, of course, was an exaggeration. Sure, she had defeated and captured him on Mandalore, but after seeing what he was able to do to an entire Star Destroyer, she had wondered if the Dathomirian had really been trying all that hard throughout their fight. During their scuffle on Malachor, she had backed out of the fight in order to go after Ezra and let Kanan handle the rest. And well, _he_ actually won their match on Tatooine, at least the one outside Obi-Wan’s home. Her shooting him in the chest and rendering him incapacitated didn’t really count as a victory. It was more of a fluke. However, Mon Mothma didn’t need to know any of that. “Please,” she added, “the item he wields is too powerful. I need to take the gamble on this, and I can’t do it alone.”

Mon Mothma sighed, resigned. “What system are you in?”

“I just arrived in the Tyrius system,” the Togruta said, daring to hope. “The nearest planet I could locate on the IGA with the facilities necessary for his surgery was –”

“How badly is he wounded?”

“There’s a hole in his chest that I could squeeze both my fists in if I tried.”

The Chancellor winced. “And yet he _lives‽”_ She paused. “I don’t know which of the two of you I should be more impressed with.” After another tired sigh, Mon Mothma continued, “You are in Tyrius. Which means you mean to get to Rodia, I assume?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka replied. “As I was saying, it is the only planet that has the medical technology available.”

“Hm, that may be so, but the Grand Protector won’t be too sympathetic to your plight.”

“Well, I figured, if you could make a call…”

“Of course. I can see now why you wanted me to wait until I heard your entire plea before agreeing to anything.”

“Madam Chancellor, I –”

“Ahsoka, it is fine,” Mon Mothma chided gently. “You have never asked for anything of the Alliance during all your years of service. I will contact Senator Dor Wieedo at once and see to it that the Rodians await you with a full security detail when you arrive on Iskaayuma. Do not worry about any financial requirements. However, I would advise you to maintain a discreet profile while you’re there. Our relationship with the Rodian government remains… courteous at best. They only tolerate intergalactic law and humor us with representation in the Senate because of our superior technology, which they need. Be very careful.”

“I will, Madam.” Ahsoka bowed her head deeply once more. “And thank you.”

“I await good news from you when the procedure is complete,” the Chancellor said. “Once the Zabrak Darth Maul is out of danger, keep him apprehended yourself, regardless of what the Rodians insist upon. Then, bring him to Chandrila immediately. Good luck, Agent Fulcrum. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Madam,” Ahsoka murmured as the hologram dissipated and the connection was terminated. Well, that had gone as well as she could have hoped for.

As the Togruta punched in the coordinates to the jungle planet into her navicomputer, she sensed a darkness brewing more strongly from the direction of the med bay. The Dark Side of the Force was swelling around Maul, and she had a good guess as to why. Once the shuttle jumped back into hyperspace, she approached the metal table cautiously.

The Dathomirian was laying exactly as he had been before, but his eyes were open now. He wasn’t chanting or muttering anything to enhance the darkness around him: he didn’t need to. The death glare he shot at her as she approached was sharp enough to cut durasteel, if such a thing were possible. Inwardly, Ahsoka cringed, but she looked down at him casually, nonetheless.

“You mad, old man?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Maul snarled, his chest heaving. For all his anger, he was still having difficulty breathing. “I will not… help you… destroy the kaiburr,” he seethed. He’d obviously overheard her conversation with the Chancellor.

“Well, what did you _think_ I wanted to do with them? _Keep_ them? Turn them into jewelry so I can make a fashion statement?”

“I spent years… finding the right crystals… to replace the ones I lost,” the Zabrak growled at her. “To remake the weapon… _you_ stole from me…!”

Ahsoka frowned. She remembered, of course. He was referring to the saberstaff he’d used to duel her on Mandalore. It was odd, now that she thought on it. Not only had she disarmed him then, but she had been able to use the Zabrak’s own weapon against him. It had been unwieldy for her to use back then, sure, but she had not sensed the same poisonous aura emitting from that saberstaff as she now did with this one. Obi-Wan had mentioned the artifact she was to find dated to _before_ the Clone Wars. Ahsoka wondered where, exactly, the Nightbrother obtained those kyber crystals. When she’d seen his new weapon on Malachor, she had assumed they came from those of Inquisitorius weapons, as the hilt had obviously been crafted using parts from those spinning sabers.

“The cards are all on the table now,” she replied dispassionately. “We both knew what we were agreeing to, when we made this deal back on Tatooine.”

 _“You_ made the deal,” the Zabrak muttered. “I had… no say in this.”

“I proposed this, of course,” Ahsoka stated. “But don’t pretend you weren’t eager to play along. I could claim the same as you, that you were the one who left me no alternative. We find ourselves in the same situation however you want to look at it.” Gazing down upon him, Ahsoka couldn’t help but grin a little. There was a familiarity even in his anger. It was almost comforting. “Relax, Maul. We’re simply getting to the _interesting_ part of our game.”

“I can’t wait… to kill you.”

“Well, you’ll get your chance soon enough, _if_ the Rodians are successful in saving your ass.”

Speaking of the Rodians, Ahsoka remembered Mon Mothma’s words of caution. Maul had been wary of travelling there, too. Her brow furrowed slightly. “The Rodian government will try to keep you there, maybe sell you off. I’m sure there’s more than one bounty on your head.”

“Those lizards… do not worry me.”

“They should,” Ahsoka countered, crossing her arms. “You mentioned how their government has dealings with several syndicates. Last I heard, they were getting quite cozy with the Red Key Raiders… and the Black Sun. If things between you and that cartel ended as badly as you say they did, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ll be amongst the highest bidders for you during the auction the Rodians will likely prepare.”

“I can… handle them. Done it… before.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It seemed his fury was burning itself out already, not nearly strong enough to sustain him for long.

“Hm…” the former Jedi pouted thoughtfully. “That’s only if the Rodians don’t try to sabotage your treatment.”

“Making sure that… doesn’t happen… is _your_ job.” Maul muttered.

Ahsoka smirked. “Well, maybe I’ll let them sabotage it a _little.”_

This earned her another glare from the Dathomirian, which almost got her giggling. It was comical to see his anger knowing he was completely harmless at the moment, like an Akul cub that snarled and snapped despite it having no teeth. However, the Togruta decided not to antagonize him any further. She reminded herself that not too long ago, back on Tatooine, he hadn’t been so harmless, and she had considered him to be very much a threat. With a small cough, she stifled any chuckling that threatened to overtake her in order to add: “We should arrive at Rodia within the next two hours. I need to go prepare a few things before we get there. Keep… doing whatever it is you’ve been doing, I guess. The wait will be over soon.”

Without pausing for a response, she spun on her heel and headed back down the hallway to her quarters. Once there, she knelt beside her cot and pulled a durasteel coffer out from beneath it. This case was larger than the one Obi-Wan had used to store Maul’s cleaved saberstaff: both wider and taller. She pressed the pad of her thumb against the locking mechanism and waited for the familiar sting of the tiny hypodermic needle that took a sample of her blood. Once the DNA recognition was complete, the lock clicked, and the hinges popped open on their own. Master Kenobi wasn’t the only person who kept hidden secrets.

Inside was seemingly nothing but neatly folded fabric in dark hues of blue, gray, and brown. Ahsoka took each piece out carefully and placed them – still folded – upon her bed. Beneath them all was a smooth gunmetal-colored featureless mask: its only distinguishing characteristics being two perfectly small, square photoreceptor screens, set square-on-point where the eyes would be. Two thin, tapering groves ran down the middle of the mask, between the two diamond shapes: starting at the forehead and ending at the chin. Where the parallel lines ran past the eye holes, both lines flared outward at opposite angles, like arrows pointing away from the center, before continuing their downward trajectory. The design was reminiscent of the markings on the Togruta’s brow. In fact, it was based on them. Ahsoka stared down at the metal mask quietly as she ran fingers down the cool surface, tracing the pattern. Like the name she had just been called by the Chancellor, this symbol, the mask, and everything in that coffer were something she had not seen in many years. “Fulcrum…” she murmured softly, her thoughts heavy with memories. How many others had carried the name? How many had perished because of it…? Not all of the spies within the Fulcrum network had been close friends of hers, but she had made a point to at least meet each one in person. She had learned their names, their stories, their reasons for fighting, and memorized their faces and voices.

With the Battle of Jakku essentially sealing the fate of the Empire and giving rise to the New Republic, it was determined that the Fulcrum spies were no longer required. Ahsoka couldn’t remember who had given the order to disband the network, or if it had rather occurred organically. In either case, most of those who remained alive had transitioned into other roles within the new government, with others – like her – officially retiring from duty. The encrypted channels of communication used by all Fulcrum was still operational, thankfully, and the fact that the new Chancellor had maintained the frequency active among her personal contacts led the Togruta to believe perhaps there was yet use for them after all.

Taking the mask in her hand, the former Jedi stood, closing the lid of the now empty case with her foot, and then pushing it back gently under her cot with the tip of her boot. The uniform before her was something she had rarely used. Among the Fulcrum ranks, it had actually become somewhat of a joke: how were they supposed to be covert spies if they all wore the same clothes? The idea for the entire thing had come from one of their latter recruits: an ex-ISB officer named Alexsandr Kallus. Ahsoka had thought the entire thing a bit silly as well, but she had humored the man, recognizing his desire for order among the chaos around them was merely his way of coping with the uncertainty of his new life. He had been groomed into a life of law enforcement since before the Empire, after all, having originally been an officer within the Coruscant Security Force like his father and both grandfathers before him. He then attended the Royal Imperial Academy once the Republic fell. All he knew before defecting to the Rebellion were ranks and uniforms and following orders to a tee. By designing the impervium masks, Kallus had felt useful, and he claimed it gave the Fulcrum a semblance of legality. Due to the nature of their missions, hardly any agents within the network used their masks or even got one, but Ahsoka had accepted hers out of sympathy. Kallus reminded her of the Clone Troopers in many ways, and as a child soldier of sorts herself, she had bonded with the older man instantly. She was glad he had survived the war.

Looking down at the metal face-cover now, the Togruta smiled to herself, glad she had kept this token after so many years. The trip to Rodia would be one of the only times an official-looking Fulcrum uniform could come in handy.

Ahsoka took her time changing into the clothes. The fabric smelled old and musty: the stale scent of disuse. The item that took the longest to put on was actually the mask; or rather, the cloth sleeves that were worn under it, meant to conceal her lekku. In the end, she managed to put on the entire getup. Securing the mask around her head with the final straps, she tapped the side of it, near her temple, and the electronics inside whirred to life. To Ahsoka, it appeared as if the lights inside a darkened room had suddenly been turned on, with the photoreceptive lenses instantly adjusting to her vision and giving the room around her a sharper focus. She inhaled deeply, testing the filtration apparatus. That first breath of air had a faint metallic scent to it, but as she began to breathe normally, the smell faded. The interior of the mask flashed a flurry of colors as it measured the ideal levels of nitrogen, oxygen, and other gases necessary for her species and adjusted the ratios accordingly. She walked over to the dresser beside her cot and peered into the tiny mirror that hung above it, inspecting her appearance. The reflection staring back at her was emotionless, the screens that made up the eyes of the mask glowing with a faint blue light: sign that the cybernetics within were working properly.

The Togruta synced up the mask with the computer inside her armored gauntlet, with the visor automatically updating its date and time. Ahsoka could see the current readout flash across her vision as it played over the interior of the photoreceptor screens. Kallus had done some impressive work on the masks, she had to admit. It was a shame they hadn’t caught on more with the other spies.

The time shown on her readout let her know she still had a bit over an hour before the hyperspace route landed them in Rodia. Plenty of time to finally get that chem-rinse ready for her vibroblade. She even decided to throw in the gaffi stick Maul had been carrying around. The former Padawan took her lightsabers from where she’d left them atop the dresser when she’d showered and clipped them to her belt, where they belonged. She exited her quarters and returned to the cockpit of the ship, picking up her sack where she’d left it by the entrance. The T-6 was small compared to other shuttles, so all essential stations were right next to one another. The maintenance pit was a small recess tucked in beside the med bay. As she walked past the Zabrak on the metal table, he craned his neck to look at her curiously.

“I did not realize…” he called out a bit weakly, “that the occasion… called for… formal wear.”

Behind her mask, Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Just because I think the Rodians are our best resource at the moment, doesn’t mean I trust them any more than you do,” she explained, taking the weapons out of her pack, and placing them inside the cleansing tank. She was a bit taken aback when the voice she heard was not her own, and was rather a mechanical, androgynous monotone. Right. Kallus had been clever enough to incorporate a voice distorter into the mask as well. Shutting the tank, she punched the proper settings for the chem-rinse and started up the machine.

She walked over to the med-bay and leaned against the edge of the table. “I’m going to do some maintenance on my lightsabers while I wait for us to reach Rodia,” she said to the Dathomirian. “Want me to take a look at yours?”

Maul frowned up at her. “How… stupid do you… think I am?” he growled, his grip tightening around the two halves of hilt.

“What, do you _need_ to be touching them?” Ahsoka asked pointedly. “I really don’t mean to destroy them yet, and I’m not trying to disarm you. I don’t need to. Those kyber crystals will end up with me eventually.”

“That is… yet to be seen,” Maul replied with obvious scorn.

The Togruta shrugged and straightened up, stepping back away. “Suit yourself, old man,” she called out airily, but the modulator made her tone lose all semblance of amicability. Which was probably for the best, she told herself. Going back to her satchel, she fished out her cleaning kit and walked with it back to the cockpit. She settled into the captain’s chair and took one of her sabers in her hand. Bending her frame over it, she set to work.

The time went by rapidly, as it often did when Ahsoka was busy with mechanic work. The amount of sand she shook out of her lightsaber hilts was unbelievable. Not only had the dust of Tatooine managed to get into the tiny hairline crevices in her hilts, but when she opened the casing, she even found sand within. It was a good thing she had decided to clean out and recalibrate her weapons. She wasn’t sure how sand would affect the effectiveness of her blades, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Not with the Rodians. She hoped against hope that she wouldn’t need to resort to using her lightsabers.

She had scarcely put her second saber hilt back together again when the shuttle began to bleep its warning that they were about to exit hyperspace again. “Here we go,” she muttered, securing her weapons back into place at her hips and buckling in before taking the controls of the ship.

An emerald orb with swirling grey clouds and patches of dull land greeted her viewing screen as soon as the T-6 came out of lightspeed. Two smallish moons floated around the planet, with two more hovering further out in space, just out of the spacecraft's range. No sooner had Ahsoka begun to fly her craft closer to the swamp world than her ship began to receive an incoming frequency on her transceiver from one of the planet’s channels. Bracing herself mentally, the Togruta opened the communication line.

“This is the Rodian Home Fleet,” a voice barked sharply with an evident lisp. “Unknown ship: identify yourself.”

“I am Agent Fulcrum with the New Republic Coalition,” Ahsoka replied. “I have been dispatched to seek your government’s aid by Chancellor Mon Mothma. Dor Wieedo is expecting my arrival. Give me the frequency, and I can send over my credentials now.”

“Stand by.” There was a long pause on the line but after a while, she was sent the channel’s code. Ahsoka knew it was unlikely to be the one directly for the Rodian senator. It was more probable that the central government was already aware of her impending arrival but was kept relatively in the dark as to her purpose there and was now trying to pry that information from her. Fortunately, Ahsoka was prepared for this. The encrypted flow of information she beamed over gave away little about her identity, showing only the serial number for the shuttle, which could be cross-referenced to prove that it had originally been a Galactic Republic model later registered to the Rebellion and now with the New Republic. It also included her operating license and rank within the Rebel Alliance, with a link included that would direct an inquiry straight to Mon Mothma herself – through her emergency government frequency, of course, not the Fulcrum network.

She had to wait even longer this time, and she could picture the Rodians carefully going over the information she sent, combing through for any hint of what her business there was. The Rodian government was composed of aggressive, warrior people, mostly males. Outsiders were usually not welcome on their planet, with them only begrudgingly allowing diplomatic visits from government officials, or other business meetings with trading partners from abroad. Either way, all interstellar travel to and from Rodia was strictly monitored. This had only grown worse during the time of the Empire.

Finally, the Togruta was given permission to begin her descent on the planet. Although she was at first instructed to land in Equator City, where she was assured Senator Dor Wieedo was awaiting her, she insisted on instead heading to Iskaayuma as she had been told to do by the Chancellor. The Rodians assented in the end but didn’t sound too happy about it. The new capital of Rodia was the most guarded place in the entirety of the planet, and martial law was enacted there.

Once she came in for a landing at the Iskaayuma Starport, her ship was surrounded immediately by members of the Grand Protector’s Home Fleet. Although they didn’t point their weapons at her vessel, Ahsoka could see from the viewing window that all were armed with E-11 blaster rifles, probably obtained during the government’s time in the Galactic Empire.

“Have all crew members disembark immediately,” the harsh voice from before commanded over her transceiver. “All weapons must be handed over at once.”

“I am unable to comply with your request,” Ahsoka replied. “The passenger I am traveling with is severely wounded and incapacitated. He must be brought down in a capsule and requires immediate medical attention.”

A short pause before the Rodian ordered, “All able crew members disembark. Now. We will handle the wounded once we take control of the ship.”

Beneath her mask, Ahsoka frowned. She knew the Rodians would likely search the entire T-6, and confiscate whatever intel they could. All her databanks were encrypted for just such encounters, however, so the Togruta was not at all worried. However… “Stand by,” she replied curtly, rising from her seat quickly and walking over to the med bay. On her way, she slipped her lightsabers underneath her leather breastplate. There was no way she was allowing the Rodians to see them.

“You heard the communication,” she told Maul as she stepped up beside the Zabrak.

“Yes.”

“The Rodians will be here for you as soon as I leave. Give me your weapon.”

The Dathomirian growled up at her. “No.”

“Don’t be stubborn, damnit, we don’t have time for this! I cannot risk the Rodians discovering we are Force users. You can continue using the crystals as a conduit if I’m close by, can’t you?” She placed a gloved hand on the Zabrak’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Maul, please.”

The Nightbrother glared at her for a moment more before she felt his arm move against one of the straps, touching her thigh. Glancing down, she saw he was nudging her with one half of his split saberstaff. Hesitantly, she placed her hand around the broken hilt and was both relieved and a bit surprised to see him let go. However, he quickly moved his hand to grip her wrist hard before she could pull away. “Know that if you double-cross me, Lady Tano, I will make sure the kaiburr utterly destroy you, even if it costs me my own life.” His tone was low and dangerous – determined. That resolve kept his voice steady, and for once he didn’t need to catch his breath to speak. As though to prove his point, he tightened his hold, and Ahsoka felt the bled crystal within the handle begin to radiate a steady hatred that burned through her glove.

“Save your hollow threats for the RHF. Now, hand over the other one.” She reached across his torso with her free hand and took hold of the other half of the saberstaff. With a dark look, Maul released his grasp of both the weapon and her wrist. Stepping back from the table, the former Jedi tucked the halves into the folds of the fabric sleeve covering her rear lek, which was wider than the ones up front. It added an extra weight onto her head, but at least by keeping them underneath her head tail, she managed to hide them from view.

“Don’t give the Rodians too much trouble,” she advised, rolling her shoulders and neck to allow the weapon halves to settle in the sleeve. “In fact, I would advise against speaking to them at all. Let’s hope no one here recognizes who you are.” She turned away from the med bay and strode towards the boarding ramp, pushing a button on her gauntlet that lowered it as she approached. “I’ll see you soon,” she called over her shoulder.

The Rodians outside eyed her sullenly, obviously suspicious. A large, muscular male with dull green scales approached her from among the group. He was in full armor, likely a bounty hunter, Ahsoka assumed. She noticed he held his rifle before him with his finger resting lightly on the trigger. The safety was off.

“Anyone else on board besides the injured?” he asked in Basic. His accent was thick, and she recognized his voice as the person she had been communicating with.

“No,” she replied curtly. “He is bound to the examination table in the med bay, just behind the cockpit. He requires emergency surgery. The New Republic has agreed to cover any and all expenses related to his care. You’d better hurry and get him: they want him alive.”

The looming Rodian shouted a command over his shoulder in his native tongue and two others came forward quickly. A jerk of his head towards the T-6 sent the two running up the ramp, blasters aimed to the front. Seconds later, one of them descended back down the ramp and reported something in Rodese to the large leader.

“Satisfied?” Ahsoka asked, arms crossed.

The Rodians ignored her and the leader gave out more instructions to those around, presumably telling them to bring forth a medical capsule as she had requested. Once several of the encircling Rodians had left to do as he asked, the large male finally turned back to the masked Togruta. He held out a hand expectantly, but not in a friendly gesture of greeting. “Your weapon,” he demanded, glancing down at the blaster pistol holstered in her belt. Ahsoka grinned underneath her mask. Good, her ploy to divert his attention had thus far worked. Calmly, she took the firearm from her side and handed it over. “I expect that back in the same condition,” she said. “Now, I also need to speak with your senate representative immediately.”

“Senator Wieedo is in Equator City engaging in important tribal negotiations,” the Rodian replied. Ahsoka didn’t believe him for a second. Equator City, the former capital of Rodia before Navik took over, was known for its sprawling gambling complex. Casinos and bars were based in the domed megalopolis, as well as entertainment venues such as concert halls and opera houses, even massive holoprojector theaters. It was where most tourists flocked to when they were allowed to enter the planet at all. Ahsoka didn’t need her Force-intuition to know that the Honorable Gentleman from Rodia was likely betting away whatever credits he had on him, drink in one hand, a beautiful Rodian girl clinging to his other arm. The large reptilian sentient standing before her continued, “Any dealings you have with our government must be done through me.” With a curt nod, he added, “Phex Crupp. Master of the Goa-Ato.” He did not hold out his hand this time.

“Not to be discourteous towards your culture and leader, but I did not travel here to deal with bounty hunters,” Ahsoka replied coldly. “Certainly not with the Grand Protector’s pet.”

Crupp made a series of rapid hooting noises, evidence of his irritation at her words. “You are here at the pleasure of the Inta’si’rin’na,” he snarled, stepping up closer to her menacingly. “You would do well not to forget.”

“Your Grand Protector retains his power at the pleasure of the Chancellor,” Ahsoka retorted promptly, not backing down. “He would do well to train you on such matters properly.”

The large Rodian tightened his grip on his rifle and he lifted his other hand grabbing her pistol as though to strike her across the face. Ahsoka was not afraid, even if she didn’t have the extra protection of the mask. She knew she could stop the Rodian sooner than he got a chance to act. Before the situation could escalate, the Rodians who Crupp had dispatched returned with a medical capsule hovering between them. One of them walked up to the pair and stood aside nervously, apparently unsure of whether or not to interrupt. His subordinate’s presence was enough to allow Crupp to regain his composure. Turning away from Ahsoka abruptly, the Guild Master gave the Rodian a quick order, and the entire group trotted up the boarding ramp with the capsule. Ahsoka hoped they wouldn’t be too rough on Maul. Unpleasant as the Zabrak was, she preferred him over the blood-thirsty, brutish members of the RHF.

It was a few moments before the reptilian sentients descended from her ship again, the sealed medical capsule in tow. She could see the Dathomirian inside through the thick glass, his skin ashen, lips pulled back in a pained snarl. He had both hands clamped over his chest, and blood oozed slowly from between his fingers. Not a good sign.

Ahsoka went briskly up to the hovering pod, rapped the top of the transparisteel with a gloved knuckle as she walked along beside it. Maul’s gaze darted quickly over to her, and his features relaxed just a tiny bit. At least his reflexes were still sharp. She knew he couldn’t see her expression due to the Fulcrum mask, but Ahsoka smiled down at him anyway. To her surprise, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards as the Nightbrother tried to grin back at her. One of the Rodians escorting the capsule guided it away from the shuttle and docking area and towards wide sliding doors. Beyond this was a short hallway that appeared to connect the starport to garages where smaller repulsorcraft were kept, such as tanks and speeders. It was towards one of these medium-sized hover-transports that the Rodians were taking the medical capsule. The vehicle was emblazoned with the universal medical symbol and was already waiting with engines on. As Ahsoka made to follow, Crupp came up behind her and grabbed her by the forearm, yanking her back roughly.

“I believe you were told that our regime will handle your wounded,” he said in a low, menacing tone, “and that you will need to deal directly with me from this point forwards.”

Ahsoka wrenched her arm away just as forcefully and squared her shoulders. “And _I_ told you that I will only discuss matters with Dor Wieedo directly. If your government doesn’t want trouble with the New Republic, you’ll get your senator’s sorry ass out of whatever casino he’s got his muzzle in at the moment. Furthermore, my ward doesn’t leave my sight for an instant; I am going wherever he goes, as per the Chancellor’s orders. If Navik doesn’t like that, he can come to me himself next time, rather than send his Kowakian monkey-lizard to meet me.”

Rodians didn’t have very expressive faces, with their tapered snouts and scaly skin. Even so, Ahsoka could clearly see the sparks of ire light up Crupp’s pupil-less eyes. Before the large Rodian could respond, however, the former Padawan raised a hand and waved it slowly in front of his face, across his line-of-sight. “You _will_ go fetch Dor Wieedo from Equator City and bring him directly to me,” she stated calmly, exerting her will over his through the Force.

Fortunately for her, becoming Master of the Goa-Ato apparently didn’t require much intelligence. Phex Crupp blinked once, his anger suddenly gone, his features slack. “I will go fetch Dor Wieedo from Equator City and bring him directly to you,” he repeated passively.

With a slight nod, Ahsoka spun on her heel and sprinted to catch up with the retreating group of Rodians. She reached them as they were loading the medical capsule onto the repulsorcraft ambulance. All four turned to look at her in surprise. She was sure Crupp hadn’t planned on her tagging along, but these weaker grunts didn’t know how to object to her presence. Without a word, the Togruta climbed into the back of the vehicle and sat beside the capsule. After a moment’s hesitation, one of the Rodians climbed in after her while two others jumped into the seats in the front and took the controls. The last one remained behind, heading back towards his post.

Placing her palm on the side of the transparisteel cover, Ahsoka peered inside. Maul was staring straight up at the ceiling. His eyes were smarting, and he was back to mumbling, although Ahsoka couldn’t hear him through the thick glass. To her dismay, she noticed his chest heaving erratically, and blood was beginning to seep from his nostrils and the corner of his mouth. Looking at his reclining form, she instantly guessed the problem. She slid her hand down quickly to the controls on the side of the pod and lowered the cover. Across from her, the Rodian gasped and leaned forward.

“No, no!” he exclaimed anxiously. “The capsule is providing filtered air to him! He is mortally wounded! He can die! Please, you need to close the capsule so he can breathe!”

“He _can’t_ breathe like this!” Ahsoka hissed, reaching into the pod, and hoisting the Zabrak up by the shoulders. The voice modulator kept her tone steady, but underneath the mask her voice trembled. “Quick: how do you adjust this thing so I can raise his head?”

The Rodian looked at her blankly before stammering: “It… it can’t. It’s, it’s an older model.”

“He has ruptures in his diaphragm!” Ahsoka continued angrily, sitting on the lip of the capsule, and wrapping an arm around the back of the Nightbrother’s upper back, propping him up against her side. “He cannot be kept in a prone position. When the New Republic requested your government’s medical assistance, that means you provide the most advanced technology your planet has, understand‽” Maul coughed once as the blood that had been pooling in his lungs came dribbling out of his mouth. His head rolled weakly, and he leaned into her. “My savior,” he whispered with a sigh, closing his eyes. Despite the frailty in his voice, Ahsoka heard the sarcasm loud and clear.

Just then, the former Jedi felt a piercing, burning sensation start up in the back of her head. In truth, it was coming from her rear lek. She realized that Maul’s weapon – which she had hid in her lekku sleeves – was activating. The Zabrak was taking the dark power of the bled kyber crystals inside in order to stem the flow of blood from his wound, in order to hang on to his fleeting life for just a bit longer. Perhaps he _did_ need to be touching them in order for him to harness their full potential – or at least have a direct conduit to them. By holding both him and his weapon, Ahsoka realized _she_ had become that conduit.

The pain was quickly becoming unbearable, but she noticed Maul’s breathing beginning to steady once more. She steeled herself against the searing sensation and gripped at his shoulder firmly, the only thing keeping her nails from cutting through his skin being the thick leather of her gloves.

The Rodian was staring at her, wide-eyed. Well, to be fair, Rodians were almost always wide-eyed. It was their default expression. But Ahsoka could tell this one – a young male with a slender, wiry build – was clearly intimidated by her. Perhaps he had been able to sense her anger, despite the mask’s monotonous voice. Her choice of words and actions _were_ rather aggressive, she supposed, and very unlike her. She remembered what the Zabrak had suggested to her back on Tatooine: that the kyber crystals could influence her personality. Strange. Obi-Wan had theorized much the same. Where the skrog did Maul _get_ those crystals, anyway?

“Y-you…” the Rodian began meekly, “you two must be close. You seem rather concerned for him.”

Ahsoka blinked, the pain that had spread up to her head momentarily forgotten. “What?”

Beside her, Maul coughed weakly: it was all he could manage as a chuckle. “Are you… joking?” he rasped. “She’s the one… who… did this… to me.”

“You should not try to speak!” the Rodian squeaked out, seemingly more amazed that the Dathomirian was able to do so than over what he’d said. “Please, sir, focus on maintaining a steady breathing rate. We’ll arrive at Emergency Services soon.”

“Yes, old man, shut up,” Ahsoka growled, her irritated tone lost through the mask’s distorter. She turned her attention back to the young Rodian. “You’re rather small for a bounty hunter, aren’t you? Or are you a pilot with the Fleet?”

“Neither,” the reptilian sentient replied, shrinking into himself a little. “I… I’m a medic. Sort of. It-it’s a family thing, I guess.” He perked up a bit then, his large blue eyes lighting up as he leaned forward. “My brother was a member of the Rebel Alliance!” he whispered excitedly. “He served during the Battle of Endor.” Upon saying the words, he suddenly became glum once more. “He, um… didn’t make it.”

“I am so sorry,” Ahsoka said solemnly. The amount of people she had met who had been directly impacted by the Galactic Civil War was innumerable.

“Abe – that was his name: Able Nereno. I’m Cebb, by the way,” he added as an afterthought. “Cebb… Nereno, well obviously.” He reached a long-fingered hand over the medical pod and Ahsoka took it in the one she wasn’t using to prop up the Dathomirian. The Rodian’s grip was firm as they shook hands, belying a hidden strength his timid manners hid so well. “My brother, he… he joined the Goa-Ato in order to get offworld,” Cebb explained. “He was a good bounty hunter, but his true calling was medicine. Almost as good as a droid!” There was definite pride in his voice as he said this. “Our government didn’t want to get involved in the Civil War. Too many advantages for the Grand Protector under the Empire’s rule. He even allowed the Imps to hire our men as bounty hunters when whatever they needed enforced was too dangerous for their stormtroopers or Inquisitors. Navik sent those men to their deaths knowingly!” Cebb strung together a series of Rodian curses under his breath, the spikes along his head bristling furiously. “That is not a hunt, that is a slaughter! There is no honor in that!” The young Rodian’s chest heaved, his breath nearly as ragged as Maul’s. However, he quickly recoiled into himself again, his eyes darting nervously towards the front cabin of the ambulance. “We’re, um, not allowed to talk about such things.”

Ahsoka nodded in understanding.

“Your anger…” Maul said suddenly, eyes still closed. “Do not... hide it. Sharpen it… use it. It will… take you places, kid.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Ahsoka interjected quickly. “Look at the place it got _him.”_ To which the Zabrak grinned weakly and Nereno hooted a quiet laugh. Even Ahsoka had to smile beneath her mask, at which point she realized the pain caused by the kyber crystals had gone away. Maul had recovered enough to where he didn’t need them directly, it seemed. Now there was only an overly warm discomfort nagging at her lek, as though she were sitting with her back too close to a fire. She frowned, glancing down at the wounded Dathomirian leaning against her side. Yes, much too close to a fire, alright.

“Anyway, I’m nowhere near as good as Abe in either medical knowledge _or_ bounty hunting, but I’m not completely inept,” Cebb was saying. “Guess that’s why the Goa-Ato keeps me around, but I’m not truly a member. More of a mascot.”

Just then, the repulsorcraft came to a smooth stop. Cebb looked out of the viewing window at the back and nodded. “We’ve arrived at Emergency Services,” he said. “This _is_ the best medcenter on Rodia,” he clarified quickly to the Togruta. “Even Navik gets treatment here when injured. Your, um... internee? He’ll be well taken care of. If he has survived this far, he must be strong. I’ve never seen a wound like that on someone that wasn’t a corpse.”

The slender Rodian quickly opened the back doors of the ambulance and climbed out, motioning for Ahsoka to do the same. With effort, she began to settle Maul back down onto the gurney. “I have nothing to keep you propped up with,” she told him. “Can you manage?” The Zabrak nodded with a wince, and Ahsoka followed after Cebb. With his long suction-tipped fingers, the reptilian sentient gently pulled the capsule forward, pressing the controls on the side once the pod was floating beside him. The transparisteel cover slid closed over the Nightbrother immediately.

They were outside a large establishment, military in appearance. Looking around, Ahsoka noticed it was the only pristine location in the area: all other buildings looked dingy and worn, slightly off-color and grimy. That might have been due to the hazy smog wafting around the top of the city’s bio-dome, fighting to squeeze itself out through the exhaust vents. Iskaayuma was an industrial metropolis: filled with factories and manufacturing complexes. If the smog hadn’t yet affected the medical building, that meant it was a fairly new installation. A set of shiny GH-8 medical droids zoomed over to them instantly, and they hovered around the medical capsule, connecting themselves to the controls and downloading the data within. A few seconds later, they beeped and trilled in alarm, taking hold of the pod, and speeding it away inside the building. Ahsoka began to follow, but like Crupp had before, now it was Cebb who rushed to intercept her, sprinting beside her, and lightly touching her shoulder.

“Please, wait a moment!” he cried, trying to get ahead of her. “The droids know what they’re doing! They’re likely taking him to the Pre-Op.”

“I’m sure they are, which is why I need to stop them!”

“I… I don’t understand!” Cebb panted as he ran beside her. The droids were _fast,_ much faster than she could keep up with at a full run. Not without use of the Force, which she definitely didn’t want to rely on in a place crawling with bounty hunters. “I thought you _wanted_ him to receive immediate treatment!”

“I do!” At least the med droids were going straight down the long corridor and not turning down any of the other passages to the sides. There also weren’t many people moving along the hallway. It seemed this passage was only used for emergency admittance. The distance between her and Maul was growing, although she could still see the capsule up ahead. “But in order to prepare him for surgery, they will give him a sedative, correct?”

“Yes.”

“If they do that, he’ll die!”

Cebb Nereno brought his gauntlet up to his face, and Ahsoka noticed for the first time that it was equipped with a bracer computer, which could double as a commlink. The Rodian typed something into the datapad’s screen and then said something in Rodese, after which he received an audible reply of bleeps and trills: the binary language of most droids.

“You can slow down,” he called over to her as they ran. “I instructed the Geeayches to stand by on any procedures until we arrive.”

“I still need to get there immediately,” Ahsoka replied, keeping up her pace. “I need to be with him.”

Cebb grunted and whistled. “He really _must_ mean a lot to you.”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, Cebb,” the Togruta replied. “But yes, he’s important to me. To the New Republic as well.” She added that last bit to make her business sound more official, although she wasn’t really sure how much value the NRC would give to the Zabrak’s life. As it were, Mon Mothma had seemed rather willing to let him die. Ahsoka was aware that the Chancellor was trying to humor her, and if not for that request, the Coalition wouldn’t spend a single credit to save Maul’s life.

They had reached the end of the long corridor, and the sliding doors opened to reveal a vast room with several partitions made of more transparisteel. It was in one of these nooks created by the clear dividers that Maul’s medical capsule was docked at. Of the two GH-8 droids, only one remained beside the pod, while in the place of the other were a pair of 2-1B medical droids: a standard-issue surgical model, and a more advanced, specialized 2-1BXR. Ahsoka and Cebb made a beeline towards them, slightly out of breath.

“According to the data obtained from the capsule, the injuries this individual has obtained are critical. He has less than ten percent probability of survival,” the 2-1BXR automaton stated. “The more we delay surgical intervention, his chances decrease. We must prepare him immediately.”

“Exclude any anesthetics or sedatives from his treatment,” Ahsoka instructed.

All three droids turned and looked at her blankly, their photoreceptors glowing idly. She knew they couldn’t truly feel confusion, but this was likely the closest approximation. After a few seconds’ pause, the 2-1BXR spoke: “Such a request cannot be accommodated, as it is barbaric and against the medical code of ethics we are programmed with. It is also impractical. The patient will not be able to remain absolutely still and we cannot keep his vitals stable if he is conscious the entire time.”

“I know this sounds ludicrous, but I assure you: he has a higher probability of surviving this if he remains awake. Go ahead, open the capsule and ask him yourselves.”

“Our medical programming is constantly being upgraded,” the medical droid stated passively. “With all due respect, our knowledge far supersedes that of any one individual sentient, as it is an amalgamation of all known medical knowledge the galaxy has developed thus far. If we were to comply with the requests of every patient we come across, mortality rates would rise.”

Beneath her mask, Ahsoka bit her lip. She knew Maul would die the moment he lost consciousness but didn’t know how to explain matters of the Force to automatons. Furthermore, she still didn’t trust giving the Rodians any more information than she had to, and that included young Cebb. The kid was alright – he seemed eager to help and genuinely caring – but he still had superiors to report to. The droids themselves, too, could be transmitting a live feed of the entire conversation to members of Navik’s government for all she knew.

“This Zabrak… has a severe allergic reaction to all known tranquilizers we’ve tried so far,” she lied in the end. “Is there anything else you can do to keep him absolutely still? Strapping him down to the operating table, perhaps?”

“He will likely still struggle against the restraints, despite his best efforts,” the droid replied. “Even if that were not the case, and he is able to keep himself from moving, he cannot stop involuntary bodily functions that would arise from experiencing the full procedure. His body will enter a state of shock, and he will die.”

“What about a paralysis beam?” Ahsoka offered, although her stomach turned at the very suggestion. Beside her, Cebb was looking even more green than his normal color.

“Such mechanisms are prohibited in medical facilities,” the 2-1BXR replied passively. “They interfere with equipment.”

“Please,” the other surgical droid interrupted, stepping forward. “Allow us to proceed as we see best. We assure you: there is no one in the entirety of the Outer Rim better equipped to treat this individual’s condition than this medical team before you.”

“If you put him under, _you will kill him,”_ the Togruta insisted, the urgency in her voice nullified by the monotone of the mask’s modulator. However, she knew her objections were futile. There was no arguing against a droid. Their knowledge was set since activation, and anything that was not installed into their matrices since then or updated through upgrades was moot and void to their metal minds.

“What about… newoongall toxin?” Cebb proposed timidly. The entire group turned to look at the young Rodian. He clicked his tongue in discomfort, obviously unused to having everyone’s full attention.

“What is that?” Ahsoka asked. She was eager for alternatives, _any._

“Newoongall are native predatory insectoids that live in caverns along the swamplands,” he explained. “They’re terrible. They, um, like to consume their prey alive. They produce this venom that they inject through a stinger, but it… it doesn’t kill. It only causes total paralysis in the somatic nervous system and delayed response in the autonomic nervous system. Which means you cannot move at all or even scream, and your vital organs continue functioning normally for the most part… even as you’re eaten alive by these things.” He shuddered. “I lost an uncle that way, on my mother’s side, during the Supreme Hunt back when my brother and I were kids. By the time the other hunters got him out of the caves, all that was left of him was his head and part of his torso with an arm still attached, ripped open and half-consumed. They even _ate his face…_ I remember it to this day. When… when they brought what was left of him back to the homestead… his heart was still beating. My grandfather took him out of his misery with a single blast through the skull.” Cebb shook his head and rubbed at his own arms anxiously. “A-anyway… the Goa-Ato have begun harvesting the stuff under Navik’s orders. I think they want to weaponize it, but the toxin begins to lose its properties once exposed to the air, so it’s not very good to lace darts or blades with, and so far, efforts to turn it into a nerve gas have also failed. There should be some in this facility, though, in canisters, as the government’s also trying to develop an antidote. That stuff can keep you immobile for days at a time if enough gets into your bloodstream.”

Ahsoka placed a hand sympathetically on the young Rodian’s shoulder and offered a gentle squeeze. Recalling the memory had obviously shaken him up, and she was grateful. Turning back towards the droids, she asked, “Can you use this instead? Is that possible?”

“Such a thing has never been done before, to our knowledge,” the 2-1BXR replied, his photoreceptors glowing as he ran through the information in his central processing unit.

“But can it be done?”

A few seconds’ pause before the droid replied, “According to our known collective knowledge, all factors indicate so. Although, I should emphasize that such a practice would be inhumane and unethical.”

“Then that should be right up Navik’s alley,” Ahsoka quipped. “Better keep notes. Your government might take interest.”

“All medical procedures are documented in our facility’s knowledge hub,” the automaton replied passively, turning away from her, and taking hold of the capsule. “We will now prepare the patient for surgery. Please go to the waiting area. Someone will be with you shortly with the proper admission and authorization forms.”

“Come on,” Cebb said, turning back towards the sliding doors, “I’ll show you the way.”

Before following, Ahsoka cast a final look down at Maul. His eyes were scrunched shut tightly, his jaw clenched. His lips were still moving as he kept up his mutterings, but Ahsoka couldn’t hear him through the transparisteel cover. Strangely, she didn’t feel any more pain caused by the kyber crystals, although she _could_ sense them emitting dark energy. It seemed to flow around and away from her Living Force, as though repelled, and towards the Zabrak’s capsule. She wondered if he had heard any part of the conversation between her and the medical droids. Could he guess what was coming? She winced as she remembered his howl of pain from back on the T-6. Things were about to get so much worse for him. She placed a gloved hand upon the capsule, but he didn’t notice. She let her hand slip back off the pod and walked after Cebb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, another chapter that took way too long to write. Sorry, my brain works sporadically. Thanks for your patience, and for reading thus far! :D


	6. Swamps and Jungles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul is finally brought back from the brink of death, only to fall into a different type of danger...

Ahsoka tapped the datapad’s screen with her stylus, submitting the final electronic form pertaining to Maul’s treatment. She had been sitting in the waiting room with Cebb for hours now, poring meticulously over the documents provided to her for review. She had made a point to read over every single clause, double-checking the small print for hidden legal traps she might fall into. She made sure to reject the waivers where the Rodian government took any type of ownership or responsibility of the procedure, knowing those loopholes could be used by them to keep custody of the Nightbrother. When it came to the fields for identifying him, Ahsoka had left out Maul’s name and age. In reality, she wasn’t sure about either of those things, so instead she only checked off the box that dictated his species: Zabrak. She didn’t note that he was a Dathomirian hybrid. As far as she was concerned, the less information the Rodian government obtained, the better.

Cebb watched her quietly as she worked, but not in an intrusive manner. He had a kind disposition that she liked; his aura was naturally gentle and put her at ease. She wondered if the brother he admired so much had been the same. Perhaps the young Rodian had picked up his demeanor from his sibling. By the adoring way he spoke of Able, it made sense that he would try to emulate him. She truly was sorry that Cebb’s brother had to die, although he had worked towards a noble cause.

“All done?” the reptilian sentient asked as the datapad chimed when the last form was accepted. He didn’t sound impatient or judgmental at how long it had taken her.

“Seems like it,” Ahsoka replied, handing him the tablet. “Are they about done; do you think?”

“Hm, probably not,” Cebb replied with a shrug, glancing down at the datapad. “From the readings I got off the med-capsule _and_ your ship’s A.I., your friend needed at least four different surgeries. Our droids are good, and fast, but not _that_ fast.”

“He’s not my friend,” the ex-Jedi clarified. “Old man wasn’t lying when he said I’m the one who did him that way.”

“Um, why _did_ you hurt him so badly?” the Rodian asked her timidly. When she turned her gaze upon him, he instinctively cringed into himself a bit. “I-I mean… if you wanted him alive. Why not just stun him, or at least wound him less severely?”

“It… was an accident,” Ahsoka said. The way Cebb had phrased the question – _Why did you **hurt** him? – _made her feel unsettled, that old sense of guilt creeping up on her again. _Hurt him._ She remembered what that gaping hole felt like beneath the pad of her thumb when her hand slipped on the blood, Maul’s tortured scream echoing in her montrals and sending a shiver down her spine. His anguished, longing stare as she walked away from him in the cold desert night, leaving him to the mercy of invertebrate parasites. How simple it was to dismiss it all as an accident. How convenient for her conscience. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. At least the mask’s voice distorter filtered out such sounds, so the young Rodian didn’t notice her discomfort.

“So, is he your travel companion? More of a working partner?” When the Togruta remained silent, Cebb squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m s-sorry… I don’t mean to pry. It’s only that… well, you _do_ seem very concerned about him, a-and you said he was important to you. And… and… well, I know what that’s like, losing someone important. Even if it isn’t a friend.”

Ahsoka sighed. Her heart really did go out to the kid.

“He’s actually a… prisoner. He’s extremely dangerous, Cebb.”

“Is he?” the Rodian asked. “Well, he looked scary at first, but he seemed nice.” After a pause, he added shyly, rubbing at his snout nervously, “Okay, to be honest, I think all Zabraks look scary. With those horns and… why do they tattoo their faces like that? I’d only seen holos of them in medical studies, but he is the first one I see in the flesh. Their tattoos and skin color don’t show that well on holograms, so I was shocked to see his were so contrasting! It never occurred to me that their markings would move like that when they talked. It makes their features stand out more, and it makes me nervous. Rodian facial movements are subtle, and easy to read for me. When he spoke to me, I thought he was going to bite me, but then I realized he was trying to make a pleasant expression, right? That’s what it means when most other sentients show their teeth that way, doesn’t it? And I’m rambling now, sorry.”

Ahsoka smiled behind her mask. Cebb was such an innocent soul. From the few things he’d mentioned, and from what she knew of Rodian culture, he had probably never been offworld, and unless he lived in Equator City – which was doubtful – he had also likely never been exposed to many other races.

“I don’t mind your questions,” she assured him. “It’s good to have a curious disposition.” She decided that giving the Rodian a small amount of general information wouldn’t do any harm. “Yes, he is a wanted criminal. I was taking him back to Chandrila, where he will likely be sentenced and incarcerated. While I was apprehending him, I lost control of the situation and he almost escaped. I panicked and shot him.”

“Shot him?” Cebb asked, his antennae twitching in surprise. “With _what‽_ I’ve never seen any blaster do _that_ before!”

“Not a blaster,” Ahsoka corrected. “Cycler rifle. From Tatooine.”

“Ah, Tatooine,” the Rodian said, his blue eyes gleaming. “I’ve never been there! Or anywhere other than here, for that matter.” He looked up at the ceiling wistfully. “If I were as good a bounty hunter as Abe was, I could have left this place a long time ago. But I’m not cut out for that stuff, I guess.” He turned to look over at her curiously. “Is that where you’re from? Tatooine?”

The Togruta shook her head. “No, I’m from Shili. However, I was raised in Coruscant.”

Cebb let out a long appreciative hoot under his breath. “Wuu!” he gasped, “All the way from Imperial City! What’s it like?”

 _Imperial City._ Well, yes, she supposed that for someone as young as Cebb, the ecumenopolis had only ever been known as such, rather than Galactic City. “Not as glamorous as you probably imagine,” Ahsoka said, the mask’s modulator removing any emotion from her tone, likely for the best. “Especially in the lower levels. People really struggle to get by over there. I’m sure you’d find it not so different from the slums of any other world. Believe me, Cebb, you’re not missing out on much.”

“Oh, I disagree.” Cebb replied. He looked as though he were about to continue, but just then, his bracer computer blipped. Glancing down at his gauntlet, the young Rodian’s snout suddenly twitched nervously. “Ah, it’s, um… Crupp is on the comm.”

Ahsoka nodded silently and allowed Cebb to answer the call. The young Rodian straightened up in his seat, absentmindedly smoothing the front of his shirt and clearing his throat before tapping the screen on his arm and activating the small holo-projector.

The square face of the Goa-Ato leader appeared and he barked something brusquely at Cebb in Rodese. Glancing over at the masked Togruta, the younger Rodian replied meekly. Although Ahsoka couldn’t understand their native tongue, she could tell Cebb was stuttering, just as he did when speaking to her. It seemed to be a nervous tick of his.

Their conversation was short, and Cebb quickly shut off his gauntlet before addressing her.

“Um, Miss…”

“It’s Fulcrum,” the Togruta said, only then realizing that she hadn’t introduced herself to the young lad back in the medical repulsorcraft. “Ditch the formalities, too. I don’t have much use for titles.”

“Ah, right,” Cebb said with an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing at his snout again. “Well, um, Fulcrum, Master Crupp wanted you to know that Senator Dor Wieedo has arrived from Equator City to meet with you. He wants me to escort you to the Eanca Goa-Ato at once.”

Ahsoka sat up straight, jolted by the news. Quite honestly, she had forgotten all about the Rodian senator and whatever negotiations she would need to discuss with him. So engrossed had she been in the jargon and legalese of the lengthy documentation she’d had to go through. “This Eanca… what is it?” she asked the young Rodian.

“The Hunter’s Guild Hall, as it’s known in Basic Standard,” Cebb clarified. “It’s not too far from here, just two buildings over. Navik wanted to make sure the Emergency Services building was constructed as close to it as possible, seeing as how his own Chambers are located in there. It’ll only take us a few minutes to arrive, even if we walk.”

“If it’s so close by, can’t Dor Wieedo come here instead?” Ahsoka asked. She was wary about leaving Maul. During the hours she had been filling out documents, she had occasionally sensed the kyber crystals beneath her lek burn hotly at times, felt them leak dark energy as the Zabrak endured his grueling surgeries. They had become relatively dormant for a while now, so he hoped the worst of it was over for the Nightbrother. As apprehensive as she was towards the entire enterprise which she had set off on with him, she also wanted his suffering to be over as quickly as possible, even if that meant he’d pose more of a threat to her life. She didn’t like inflicting pain onto others, and although she felt she’d had no other real way of dealing with Maul at the time, she knew her sense of guilt wouldn’t go away until he was out of danger. Leaving him alone in a building crawling with bounty hunters – some of whom were probably under the payrolls of several of Maul’s enemies – was likely to increase his peril.

“Ah, um… I didn’t ask,” Cebb admitted shyly. “I didn’t think it’d be a problem for you. A-and also, all dealings are done within the Eanca. At least, they have been since Navik took over during the times of the Empire. All major government offices have been moved there over the years, save for the Imperial Embassy. I’m sorry: the New Republic Embassy now, right? _That_ is still over in Equator City. But I guess most off-worlders _would_ rather stay over there.” The Rodian hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat before continuing, “I really _do_ think it best if we listen to Crupp this time. I know you don’t trust our government – and I don’t blame you. _No one_ should.” That last part he said in a whisper, looking down at his lap. “But the med-droids here are top-class. I don’t just mean that in the performance sense. Their work ethic is also great! They won’t allow anyone access to your, um – what’s his name? – until he’s recovered. I know them, they’re decent, y-you know, for droids.”

Ahsoka smiled beneath her mask and gave an assenting nod, followed by a small shrug. She believed Cebb; it seemed he had a good working relationship with the droids inside the facility. She had noticed by how they had patiently allowed him to offer his suggestion – which turned out to be a good one, actually – and the fact that he spoke up then at all. It was evident to Ahsoka from the Rodian’s mannerisms that he rarely said anything unless spoken to first. Everyone seemed to intimidate him, poor thing. He had a gentle personality, and among Rodians, that was not seen as a favorable trait. She could see that he probably liked the droids he worked with better than the members of the Goa-Ato. She recalled the derision in his tone when he’d said he was their mascot. The kid deserved more. She wished she could help him, but unfortunately, she had more than her share of problems to deal with at the moment. The ex-Jedi determined then that once her affair with Maul was over and done with, she would return to Rodia and seek out Cebb. In the meantime, there really was no benefit in antagonizing Navik’s government any further. Her negotiations with the senator were likely going to be difficult as it were, and she had to be mindful that she was representing Mon Mothma herself.

She stood with a sigh and waited for Cebb to do the same. As he did so, a droid rounded the corner and headed towards them. It was another GH-8 model, and it hovered before them politely. At Cebb’s nod, the automaton addressed her.

“I am proud to announce that the medical procedures went well. The patient required extensive work, but we were successful in repairing all damages, both organic and cybernetic.”

“Cybernetic‽” yelped Cebb before he could stop himself.

“Correct,” the GH replied in its pleasant masculine voice. “The prosthetic limbs were in dire need of repairs. We upgraded the circuitry and replaced some of the internal joint components. All mechanisms within were cleansed and lubricated. I hope this was acceptable? We were told to spare no expense.”

“It’s fine,” Ahsoka replied, although she was frowning beneath her mask. The medical droids had inadvertently made the Zabrak more lethal. Subconsciously, she rubbed at her midsection, recalling the kick Maul had landed on her during their scuffle on Tatooine. As if that hadn’t been painful enough, now he would be able to land kicks quicker, with more accuracy, and probably harder than before. Great.

“That is good to know,” the droid continued, “for we also took the liberty of doing a complete hygienic deep cleaning of his oral cavity. It didn’t seem he’d had access to dental care in quite a while.”

Ahsoka shrugged. Well, there couldn’t be any harm in _that._ She supposed that would reduce her chance of getting an infected wound if the Dathomirian ever decided to return the favor and bite _her_ for a change.

“He’s a _cyborg‽”_ Cebb whispered in awe, apparently still processing that bit of information. “Is that… is that normal for his species? Are tattoos and implants the norm, or…?”

Ahsoka couldn’t help but laugh. The voice modulator muted out all sound of it, but she doubled over, her frame shaking. The young Rodian’s innocence was simply too much. At Cebb’s perplexed and slightly worried look her way, the Togruta straightened up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are… are you okay?” he asked timidly.

“I’m fine, Cebb, just having a laugh. Sorry,” she added quickly. “I don’t mean to offend. You’ve just got a lot to learn about the galaxy at large.” She tilted her head to the side and looked him over. “Maybe I should take you along with me after this,” she offered. “In the short time I’ve known you, I can already tell you’re much nicer company than Ma– _aaii_ ward.” Skrog, she’d almost said his name out loud.

Cebb’s antennae twitched in surprise, and he ran his hand over his snout bashfully, fidgeting in place. “Ah, um, really? Thank you, but… I don’t have clearance to get offworld. Only _real_ bounty hunters are allowed to do that. And, um, even… even if I could, I wouldn’t. I… I have a family to look after.”

Ahsoka nodded. “I understand,” she said. She’d spoken on a spur of the moment, and it made sense that the young Rodian would have things binding him to his home world. It made her a bit wistful, knowing she no longer had a place to tie her down. The Grand Temple of the Jedi had long ago been converted into the Imperial Palace, and after the death of Palpatine and the surrender of Grand Vizier Amedda, the structure had fallen into disrepair. _“Home... is a feeling,”_ Obi-Wan had said to her on Tatooine, and Ahsoka realized grimly that she had not known a home for decades now. Cebb was a lucky kid, in that he hadn’t experienced what being completely adrift felt like.

“For the moment,” the GH was continuing with its report, “the patient is in a recovery bacta tank until his paralysis wears out.”

“How soon will that be?” Ahsoka asked immediately, her thoughts racing back to her dangerous captive.

“We are unsure,” the droid replied. “We gave him a standard dose as has been reported in stings from fully grown newoongall on adult males, but as all previous subjects have been Rodians, we do not know how quickly a Zabrak’s body will process the neurotoxin. Our instruments are monitoring his brainwaves, however. He _is_ conscious and appears to have no negative aftereffects thus far.”

“If he so much as twitches in that tank, hit him with another dose,” Ahsoka instructed sharply. “We already know it won’t kill him.” Turning to the young Rodian beside her, she nodded. “Let’s go, Cebb. Lead the way.”

A bit taken aback; the medic otherwise complied. “Ah, um, this way,” he said.

As they walked down the corridor, Ahsoka noticed the Rodian looking over at her out of the corner of his eye. The former Padawan didn’t need to tap into the Force to understand that the kid was uncomfortable. She sighed. “Go ahead, Cebb,” she told him. “Say what’s on your mind. It’s not good to keep your thoughts bottled up inside like that.”

“Ah, oh! It’s only that… it’s just…”

“Yes?”

“Y-you really mean business, don’t you? About your prisoner, or whatever he is. It’s just… keeping him on newoongall venom…” He shuddered. “I’m not sure he deserves that. It’s really awful stuff.”

“He’s a murderer, Cebb. Given half the chance, he’ll rip his way out of that bacta tank with no regard to who he hurts.”

“Is that why you panicked? Were you afraid he’d try to kill you, too?”

“He means to kill me. I know it. He’s told me so, even as I sought medical aid for him.”

“Then why try to save him at all?”

“This is far more important than beyond what _I_ want,” the Togruta replied stoically, looking straight ahead. “He’s needed alive, so I’m taking him in alive. That’s all.” She _really_ did not want to continue with the topic of conversation. The situation was far too complicated for her to explain in the timespan covered by a short walk. There was too much bitter history which she couldn’t bring herself to voice out loud, all the things about the Force aside.

By this point, they had reached the outside of Emergency Services and were walking along the pedway towards an enormous building made of brick and durasteel. It was several stories high, and heavily armored. It had an almost pyramidal shape, with rustic, slanted stone stairs going up one face of it. Ahsoka could tell that it was immensely old, likely from a time of pre-intergalactic exploration for the Rodians. It had been maintained and modernized over the generations, leaving the additions – such as electric lights and docking spaces for speeders and small aircraft – looking out of place. As they walked up to the edifice’s main entrance, they were met with heavily armed and armored guards, as large and dour-looking as Phex Crupp. The pair stopped, and Cebb fumbled with his gauntlet in order to produce a holographic identification. He squeaked out something in Rodese which the Togruta couldn’t understand, but she caught the names “Dor Wieedo” and “Crupp.” The guards grunted a reply that didn’t sound too polite, but they allowed them through. As Ahsoka and Cebb walked inside, the Togruta heard the bounty hunters snicker in small grunting hoots. Cebb said nothing of it, but she noticed how his slender hands balled into fists at his sides, and his quills bristled slightly.

From the main lobby of the building, they approached a discreet-looking set of sliding doors. At Cebb’s clearance chip, these opened to reveal a private elevator. The two stepped inside and the young Rodian entered a code on the control panel in the wall. “This lift will take us directly to Senator Wieedo’s office,” Cebb explained quietly as the gears within the elevator mechanisms began to activate. “It can move both horizontally and vertically throughout the building, so it saves on walking time. Still, it’s a little disorienting if you’re not used to it. You can grab onto the stabilizing bars along the wall if you begin to feel dizzy.”

“Thanks,” Ahsoka replied. “I’ll take you up on that.” In reality, she knew she’d be fine, even as she felt the elevator begin to pick up its pace. Togrutas were naturally spry and acrobatic, and coupled with her combat training and life among the stars, that made her pretty adept at handling unexpected motion in her surroundings. It had been years since she’d felt the effects of space adaptation syndrome, but she decided to humor the Rodian, sensing that he needed to feel validated and appreciated after their rude encounter with the guards.

The trip was quiet and as Cebb had predicted, didn’t take too long. The going _was_ a bit rough once the elevator worked up its speed, but Ahsoka really only grabbed hold of the bars for the young medic’s sake. All too soon, the room stilled, and the sliding doors opened with a hiss. Cebb nodded to her before stepping out and waiting for her right outside the doors. With a resigned sigh, Ahsoka followed.

The room they ended up in was spacious and opulently decorated. Curtains of red shimmersilk with gold embroidered edges were draped over tiny windows: a vain attempt at disguising the military nature of the structure. The furniture was made of ornately carved wood and highly polished. Upon the shelves were intricate figurines made of various materials: mostly precious metals or stone inlaid with crystal. It was an office meant to showcase Rodian wealth and prestige, nestled within this building that represented power. Ahsoka was not impressed.

A slightly paunchy, middle-aged Rodian with blue-green scales and black eyes was waiting for them alongside Phex Crupp in the center of the room, standing in front of a large, glossy wooden desk. They stood facing each other, as though they had been entertaining a casual conversation, but Ahsoka could sense from the atmosphere in the room that this too, was mere theatre. The senator was rather short for a Rodian, and his physique was also not common among his kind. In order for him to be so out of shape, he had to be leading an extravagant lifestyle.

Upon seeing them enter, Dor Wieedo instantly walked forward, his snout twitching into the fakest smile Ahsoka had ever seen: tiny lips pressed together and curving up at the corners. Rodians didn’t show expressions in the same manner as most other humanoid species, due to the structure of their faces. That Dor Wieedo was able to emulate what other races would interpret as a smile immediately meant to Ahsoka that he was forcing his mannerisms to put her at ease. He might just prove more dangerous than the Master of the Goa-Ato standing beside him, for he was obviously a seasoned politician. Ergo, cunning and manipulative. The Togruta was especially grateful for her mask at that moment, as it hid her disgust.

Stepping up to them, the Rodian senator inclined his head to her respectfully and crossed his arms over his chest, placing long, spindly hands over his own shoulders in the traditional Rodian greeting. Ahsoka returned the gesture out of respect for the culture, although she knew Dor Wieedo wasn’t being genuine. Frankly, she preferred Cebb’s impulsive and slightly awkward handshake; that had been far more earnest, if informal for their kind.

“We are honored to receive a direct ambassador from the Chancellor,” Wieedo said. Ahsoka found his voice to be oily and sly, like she was sure the rest of him was. “Please, join me at my desk. May I offer you a drink?”

“The New Republic is thankful for your people’s aid,” Ahsoka replied measuredly. “As this is an urgent matter, discussions shouldn’t take long. I appreciate your hospitality, but I would rather remain standing. Please, don’t trouble yourself with any beverages on my behalf.”

Ahsoka noticed all three Rodians involuntarily twitched their snouts: a sign of unease or displeasure. However, the senator quickly pressed his lips into that hypocritical smile, splaying his long-fingered hands at his side, palms facing forward. “Of course, I understand the urgency of this situation. I have already spoken to the Chancellor’s advisor, Velus, in regard to your arrival. Rest assured, the New Republic has our government’s complete and absolute cooperation.” Glancing over at Phex Crupp, the senator continued, “I take it you would rather discuss such delicate matters in private.”

“I would,” the Togruta answered. At a nod from the senator, Phex Crupp squinted and flapped his antennae in the Rodian equivalent of a scowl. With a derisive grunt, the large bounty hunter walked forward, seemingly towards them at first, only at the last moment deviating off-course slightly to walk towards the elevator. He pushed himself past Cebb roughly, causing the young medic to stumble back a few steps. He barked a single command in Rodese and nervously, Cebb followed him, casting a final glance towards Ahsoka. He never once tried to make eye-contact with the senator.

Once they were alone, Dor Wieedo moved towards his desk, gesturing for Ahsoka to follow. She obliged, albeit warily. “You won’t mind if _I_ sit, I hope,” he said mildly, going around to the other side and sinking into a hover-chair cushioned with velvet. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be.” Ahsoka only nodded in assent, minding her tongue. She knew the game the Rodian was playing, had seen it before: act the feeble, pleasant old man with the polite mannerisms and charming disposition in order to get what he wanted. She wouldn’t be fooled the way the Jedi Council had in the past.

“Now,” Wieedo began, smoothing out his own extravagant robes. They were emerald colored, made of veda cloth, by the looks of it. “Velus tells me you are transporting a dangerous criminal who must be delivered immediately to the NRC authorities. He must be quite important for the New Republic to not only want him to answer to the core galactic government directly, but to be willing to pay such an enormous amount to assure his survival. Tell me: who is he?”

Ahsoka crossed her arms in front of her chest, instantly apprehensive. She knew this question would come up sooner or later; had been thinking about it since she’d set course for the Tyrius system, and even more actively since filling out the medical authorization forms at Emergency Services. She’d left a lot of fields blank regarding Maul’s identification, which she had been sure would raise red flags.

“I do not have that information fully,” she half-lied. “I do not know his real name, only that he has been known by many over the course of several years.”

“Yes, I noticed many of the identification fields on our medical forms weren’t filled out,” Dor Wieedo mused, keeping his tone light and friendly. He tapped idly at a datapad that only until that moment the former Padawan noticed he had on his desk before him. “This is unfortunate. We would have liked to have been able to provide further prosecutorial assistance if necessary, but I’m afraid such a thing is impossible if we don’t know who this culprit is.”

Ahsoka held absolutely still, unnerved. She understood the veiled implication behind the Rodian politician’s words. Navik’s government wasn’t trying to be helpful by prying information about Maul: they wanted to know if her prisoner had connections to any of the syndicates they worked with. Although they were technically aligned with the New Republic, the Rodians were ultimately loyal to whoever the largest beneficiary was. If Navik could garner more profits from pirates and cartels, he would find a way to get his bishwag Wieedo to circumvent the Chancellor’s authority so they could operate outside the law. “I find it rather strange,” the senator continued, pressing his lips into that false smile. “So odd that the New Republic would be transporting someone deemed so dangerous on an unarmed transport shuttle, accompanied by an agent of the law who is only armed with a blaster pistol and rudimentary weapons from the Sand Apes of Tatooine.”

Ahsoka grit her teeth behind her mask. Wieedo’s voice was like slime oozing around her montrals. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that her ship had been thoroughly checked. She was thankful she had both her real weapons and Maul’s hidden on her person. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself over such things,” she replied tersely. “Your government will receive a full reimbursement for the medical services you’ve so generously provided.”

“We are an industrial society,” Dor Wieedo said. “The financial support is appreciated, of course, but not what we require of the New Republic.”

Ah, now they were getting to the meat of the subject. Ahsoka nodded in understanding, trying to appear relaxed. “I am a direct representative for the Chancellor,” she said, again speaking half-truths. “I can relay a message.”

“Oh, but you see,” the Rodian said, _“Velus_ is there for the passing on of such messages. We need guarantees.”

“Are you suggesting the NRC barter with Navik over the handing over of the prisoner?” Ahsoka asked pointedly. She could feel her temper flaring up again, against her better judgement. She accredited at least part of that impatience to the bled crystals hiding in her lekku sleeves.

“Goodness, no!” Dor Wieedo exclaimed, feigning innocent alarm. “I am only expressing the legitimate concern our government has in regard to the strength of our membership within the New Republic. You understand. We have done nothing but comply with whatever requests the Chancellor has asked of us, yet our pleas for guaranteed military assistance as insurrection and terrorist attempts assail our world have gone unheeded. This is becoming a one-sided relationship, and not beneficial to us. All we simply ask for in return for our continued loyalty is a bit in return, nothing more.”

“If you’re referring to having the New Republic deploy actual military forces to Rodia, you know fully well that it is not within the Chancellor’s power to execute. As a member of the Galactic Senate, _you_ have more sway over these matters, and only the High Command can give such an order.”

“I’ll have you know that I voted _against_ the Military Disarmament Act,” the Rodian stated coolly, placing his hands on top of his desk and interlacing long fingers. Ahsoka noticed he did this in an attempt to keep them steady, as he appeared irritated, but the tapping of his thumbs together and another slight twitch of his snout betrayed his emotions. “Ten percent of the Defense Fleet remains. We were promised in the Senate that aid would still arrive to those worlds who requested it, yet all the New Republic has offered so far is training personnel. We are a nation of proud hunters, soldiers. Our people know how to fight. We require no training. What we need is the official backing of the interstellar authority. A guarantee that if a coup were to occur, the New Republic army will intercede on our Grand Protector’s behalf.”

 ** _The New Republic is not in the business of upholding dictatorships,_** a voice whispered darkly in Ahsoka’s mind. She could feel the bled kyber crystals in Maul’s weapon resonating slightly and she shook her head, briefly nonplussed. She wasn’t sure that had been her own thought, and it unsettled her. It was certainly what she _wanted_ to say but knew better than to give voice to.

“I’m sure the Republic… will do all within its power to make sure such a thing _doesn’t_ occur on Rodia to begin with,” she said instead. “There are diplomatic measures that can be taken to ensure this, ambassadors who can come up with de-escalation proposals your government can enact. Perhaps reparations are in order which Navik can offer the Rodian people. That would go a long way to easing the tensions currently on your world.”

“You off-worlders understand nothing of our culture,” Dor Wieedo snapped, “yet you presume to tell us how to run our planet. This is why the Inta’si’rin’na has often needed to search for help elsewhere. It is so unfortunate.” He shook his head slowly, lowering his eyelids in a gesture of sorrow, fake as everything else about him was. “But all is well, rest assured. We hold no hostilities.” He saluted her in the Rodian fashion again. This time, Ahsoka didn’t return the gesture, instead tightening her grip on her own arms and only nodding slightly in acknowledgement. “As a protocol of our own security forces, we will keep the individual within custody until we have clearly identified him. You are welcome to remain here as well, of course. Understand that this measure is for our own people’s well-being.”

Ahsoka started up at once, incensed. “I fail to see how keeping a dangerous criminal on your planet is beneficial to the Rodian people,” she seethed.

“Letting him depart when we have fully restored him, accompanied only by a poorly-armed warden on an unarmed civilian shuttle… well, take no offense, but you see how this most certainly guarantees his escape while still in our system. Once we determine who he is, and the level of danger he actually poses, we can assign a proper security detail to escort you to the Core.” The senator gave her his tight-lipped, false, teeny smile once more, his cold eyes remaining fixated upon her. “The sooner we verify his identity, the more quickly we can go through this entire process.”

 _Skrog._ The Rodian had her backed into a corner, and they both knew it. Navik’s government could, using legal means, keep Maul imprisoned until they had their way. Wieedo would make sure through internal negotiations in the Senate that the High Command wouldn’t interfere. Mon Mothma herself would be powerless and may even lose political favor among various systems who sympathized with the Rodians if she insisted on opposing their decision. Ahsoka was in no position to bargain with them, which Dor Wieedo had likely also already deduced. He was holding her hostage along with Maul under the guise of diplomacy and wasn’t expected to back down. The only thing she had to offer him was knowledge, and he suspected it. She understood that this is precisely what he wanted. Damned if she was going to let him have it. However, she had to at least _pretend_ to want to work with him. Dealing with Dor Wieedo was not as easy as handling Crupp: she couldn’t just wave a hand in front of his face and make him do what she wanted. She had figured that the senator was in his position for good reason, and she had just confirmed it. There was a sharp mind and cunning intellect behind that aged and pot-bellied appearance. A mind trick wasn’t likely to work on him, and besides: she was sure there was at least one recorder somewhere in the room. She hissed under her breath; the sound negated wholly by her mask.

“I am sorry I am unable to offer much information other than the little I have,” she told him, doing her best not to tap her foot irately.

“Oh, I’m sure _any_ intel you have on our mystery subject will be put to good use by our Intelligence Officials,” Dor Wieedo said with that damned smile. He tried to hide his smugness by crinkling his large eyes up at her, but as it was not a natural expression for Rodians, it only came across as though he were squinting suspiciously at her.

“He has been operating in the underground for a long time,” Ahsoka said cautiously, purposefully not offering a timestamp. “Always evading capture and wreaking havoc on systems. He’s an anarchist, essentially.” She searched for the proper words she could use to offer essentially nothing of value to the senator. Something that would keep him busy while she came up with a plan to sneak off the damn planet with her captive. It wouldn’t be easy, and Dor Wieedo was smart. What could she offer him that would…? A name, perhaps? “During the time of the Empire, he was known only as the Shadow.”

The moment she spoke the words, she immediately regretted it, for the Rodian’s large eyes became even larger, and he perked up instantly. She noticed that he tried to suppress his reaction, but his hands were trembling slightly, and he clasped them all the more tightly on his desk. Ahsoka wasn’t sure if Dor Wieedo was afraid or excited. Perhaps both.

“My, my, you should have mentioned this sooner!” he murmured, immediately rising to his feet. “The Empire knew him as the Shadow, you say?” He walked around his desk and moved past her quickly, heading towards the elevator doors. “Would you happen to know if he was ever hunted by the Inquisitorius?”

Ahsoka nearly groaned out loud. Well, of course, she should’ve thought of it sooner: Cebb had mentioned that Navik’s Goa-Ato worked closely with the Empire, hadn’t he? The young medic had said derisively how the Inquisitors had often hired Rodian bounty hunters on what essentially were suicide missions. If they’d had trouble capturing Maul, it made sense that they’d have the Rodians on their payroll to help flush him out. She knew there was no use in denying facts any further, but she also didn’t want to admit to Wieedo that she’d known exactly who she’d brought in for treatment all along. Best if she continued to feign ignorance.

“I never worked _with_ the Empire,” she replied coldly instead, following after him. “Therefore, I wouldn’t know the answer to your question. By your reaction, I take that to mean you understand the threat my captive poses, and thus won’t hinder my departure with him. It is of utmost importance that I begin my journey back to the Core as soon as possible. I must report to the Chancellor directly.”

Dor Wieedo glanced over at her, his hands gripping themselves tightly in front of him. Yes, he was definitely afraid. Hastily, he pushed back the flowing sleeves off one of his arms to reveal a bracer computer gauntlet similar to Cebb’s. Tapping the touchscreen with long, suction-tipped digits, he brought up the communicator to his face and spoke quickly in Rodese. Instants later, the doors to the elevator opened again and Phex Crupp walked purposefully into the room.

“Please, Master Crupp, accompany our guest back to her ship. I’m sure she has plenty to report back to the Chancellor, and I must meet with the Inta’si’rin’na at once.”

“I would much rather return to Emergency Services first, to check up on my warden.” Ahsoka said quickly. “I need the full detailed medical file on him before I can report to the New Republic.”

“Of course, of course,” Dor Wieedo said absently, already returning to his desk. The Togruta noticed him reaching beneath the tabletop to produce a large expensive-looking glass bottle of liquor. She couldn’t be sure, but his scaly skin looked a bit pallid. “Master Crupp, if you will, do as she requests.”

Phex Crupp didn’t look happy about his orders, but he nodded curtly before heading back to the elevator. Ahsoka stepped in beside him, apprehensive. Once the doors closed, and the room began to move, the former Jedi turned to the large Rodian and asked, “Where is the young medic who accompanied me here? He has been of great help.”

“Nereno has his duties to attend to,” Crupp growled, keeping his eyes straight ahead, facing the closed doors. “He wasted enough of his day pandering already.” After a moment of tense silence, he added, a malevolent glint lighting up his protruding eyes, “Also, he is _not_ a medic. Merely a droids’ helper. A poor one, at that.”

Ahsoka felt her face flush with anger, and pressed her lips tightly closed in order to keep herself from replying with some crass remark. Just then, the lift came to a full stop, and the doors opened. Crupp walked out immediately without waiting for her and made towards the main entrance. Ahsoka took long strides to catch up and made sure to walk directly beside him, refusing to follow in his wake.

They had no issues with the guards at the doors this time around, with the pair who had sneered at Cebb instantly saluting the Goa-Ato leader and crisply standing aside stoically. Ahsoka was very tempted to make a rude sign to the two as she passed.

No sooner had they entered the Emergency Services building, than another GH-8 model droid hovered over to them. “Welcome back,” it said pleasantly, addressing Ahsoka directly. “We have just notified M.A. Nereno that the patient has been taken out of bacta. We hope he was able to relay the message to you.”

Before Ahsoka could respond, Phex Crupp stepped toward the droid menacingly. “Who instructed you to report to Nereno, you floating scrapheap?” he growled. “He has no authority around here.”

The med-droid drew back a bit instantly. It seemed even the automatons on Rodia were cowed by the Goa-Ato Master. “The medical records provided state that the patient falls under the jurisdiction and responsibility of the New Republic, who is in turn being represented by Agent Fulcrum here. As she had been accompanied by M.A. Nereno the entire time the medical procedures took place, we assumed he was our best contact for her.”

“Your best and _only_ contact between Rodia and Agent Fulcrum is me,” Crupp sneered, putting an extra-derisive tone when he mentioned Ahsoka’s name. “Do you understand‽”

“We will make a note of this for future reference,” the GH-8 replied passively, bobbing slightly in place. Ahsoka couldn’t be sure, but the droid seemed somewhat amused. She could see why Cebb liked the automatons better than the bounty hunters.

“Where is my ward now?” Ahsoka interrupted, ignoring Crupp completely. She tried to sense Maul’s dark aura through the crystals in his weapon, but they had remained dormant since that strange incident at the Eanca. Hopefully, that meant the Nightbrother was asleep.

“We have moved him into a room where he can rest more comfortably,” the medical droid replied. “If you will follow me, right this way,” it gestured down the hallway with a tiny arm, “I will lead you to him.”

“Thank you,” the Togruta answered with a nod. However, Crupp interceded once again.

“You are not authorized as of yet to take custody of the prisoner,” he said threateningly.

“Does it _look_ like I’m taking him yet‽” Ahsoka snapped, hands on her hips. “As I told the senator just now, I need to see what state he’s in _before_ I can contact my higher authority within the NRC. Senator Wieedo ordered you to comply with my wishes, didn’t he? Are you going to go against a command from your own government official? How will Navik look before the Republic if he can’t even keep order within his own political structure?” She took great pleasure in seeing Crupp’s snout twitch, flapping from side to side in anger. “I am sure,” she added, grinning behind her impervium mask, “that you have several important duties to attend to. Please, don’t bother wasting any more of your day _pandering._ This fine medical droid is qualified enough to escort me.”

Crupp glared at her for a moment before muttering something in Rodese – rude, she was sure, by the GH’s worried bleeps – and turning back towards the exit. Fuming, he marched away and was soon out the sliding doors. Once he was gone, Ahsoka turned to the droid. “You’ll tell Cebb about that interaction for me, won’t you?” she asked cheerfully. The voice modulator of her mask hid her gleeful tone, but the droid caught on to it anyway.

“Oh, I will play back the entire thing for him,” it replied, bobbing in place again. “I was recording the entire exchange.”

Ahsoka laughed, the mask absorbing the sound once more. She cut her snickering short, however, when she remembered what was still coming up ahead. “Please,” she said, “lead the way.”

As she walked along beside the hovering med-droid, she asked, “Did you restrain him?”

“We did,” replied the GH. “As was requested on the forms. I should point out that it may be unnecessary. He has not made any attempt to move. Newoongall toxin usually takes about 48 standard hours to run its course through an adult Rodian’s system. The effects are purged from the autonomic nervous system first, so even if the individual were to try and fake continued paralysis, our instruments would instantly detect the changes in blood pressure, pulse and breathing rate. Those of the patient you brought in have not changed since the venom was administered. Even if a Zabrak’s body were to process the toxin faster than a Rodian’s – which well may be the case – the difference is probably slight. Only a couple of hours, is our collective guess.”

“Hm, you’re probably right,” Ahsoka agreed. “Still, I would rather take the extra precaution.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, going down the long hallway to another elevator. The GH-8 explained how Maul had been transferred to another floor since he was no longer in need of intensive care. He was removed from the bacta tank, it rationalized, because there was really nothing more the fluid could do for the Dathomirian. All internal damage had been corrected by the series of surgeries he’d undergone, and the bacta was used to help the surgical site close up and heal correctly. “The bacta also regenerated the burns on the patient’s head and upper torso, and helped the arm heal some lacerations caused by an apparent animal attack,” it added casually as the lift transported them to the appropriate level. “We decided not to administer any serum, as that would probably affect the potency of the newoongall toxin, and we understood you wanted him under the full effect of it for as long as possible.”

“Correct,” Ahsoka replied, not too happy at being reminded of that choice. What other alternative had she had, really? “I don’t know how much information was relayed to your medical team, but this individual is highly dangerous. He would destroy much of this facility and its staff if he were able to move. I’m sure of that.”

“We were informed to keep a tight security detail on him, at least until we receive further orders. Ah, here we are. This is the Recovery Wing.”

The elevator had stopped smoothly, and the doors slid open. Ahsoka followed after the GH-8 into another long hallway, pristine as the rest of the building thus far. They rounded a corner, and the Togruta didn’t need the droid to point out which room Maul was in. There was a pair of burly, armored Rodians standing at attention just outside the door, blaster rifles held at the ready before them. Ahsoka wondered if they were as dim-witted as Crupp. She hoped so: in case she’d need to resort to another mind trick. However, it didn’t seem she needed to have worried, for they stepped away from the sliding doors to let them pass the moment she and the GH approached them.

The former Padawan looked around the room as she walked in, the med-droid hovering beside her at shoulder height. The room was small and spotless: all in white, with no furniture or seats for visitors. There was only a single medical capsule in the center, and Maul lay inside it, his eyes closed, apparently sleeping. He was pinned to the medical gurney by energy straps, and there were stun cuffs keeping his ankles together and his wrists shackled to the rails at his sides. The cover was down, and the Togruta could see electric nodes stuck to his forehead and torso, likely keeping track of his vitals. Ahsoka stepped up to the hovering capsule and looked down at the Zabrak, observing the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He certainly appeared to be in better shape. Even his skin was a more vivid shade of crimson, and his tattoos didn’t look so faded. It seemed his time in the bacta tank had allowed him to de-age, although she knew that was impossible. Her eyes immediately swept down to his legs and she confirmed that, yes, in fact, several components had been replaced with newer, more advanced-looking parts. Gone were the leather strips that held exposed wiring in place, and unable to help herself, Ahsoka reached over and ran a gloved hand over the shiny new metal plating covering the pylon on one of the legs.

“Is this durasteel?” she asked, leaning in a bit closer in order to get a better look.

“Enhanced titanium,” replied the GH-8. “As you know, it is a stronger alloy than durasteel.”

“Lower density, too,” muttered Ahsoka, frowning beneath her mask. Were the Rodians _trying_ to sabotage her mission? Well, of course they were, she supposed, although enhancing the Dathomirian criminal in this way was likely counterproductive to them as well, if they meant to keep him, as she suspected.

“More importantly, titanium is the only metal known to be biocompatible and able to graft fully onto organic bone,” the droid said. “The fact this individual was able to survive for what appeared to be quite some time with durasteel prosthetics alone is quite a feat.”

Ahsoka looked over at the GH, a bit startled. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” the medical droid began patiently, floating over to her side, “having the external plating be made of durasteel, or even other alloys such as duranium or impervium,” – it nodded knowingly at her mask – “is typically not an issue, and often preferred by those seeking cybernetic implants as enhancements rather than simple prosthetics. However, all these composites are prone to corrosion over time, and need to be changed out every few years. In the case of our patient here, the internal mechanisms were also mainly durasteel. This included the pipes, pumps and cannisters that replaced his lower digestive system. The connectors that attached directly from the severed organs to these cybernetic replacements were made of alum, which although is corrosion-resistant due to the aluminum component in the ore, is more suitable for crafting armor, not surgical implants. The connectors were never accepted by the individual’s tissues, which meant he had to be meticulous in his maintenance routine or risk infection. It was likely a highly uncomfortable existence. Fortunately, we were able to replace all these internal components with new ones made from our enhanced titanium alloy. He will really begin to feel the difference within four to six standard weeks, when the osseointegration will be complete.”

Ahsoka remained quiet, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t sure how long Maul had had these specific set of legs. When he had first reemerged during the Clone Wars, they were definitely different: longer and more crudely made. By the time she met him herself on Mandalore, however, he’d had these particular set of prosthetics, she was certain of it. She’d had to dodge enough kicks from him over the years to where she’d practically memorized their appearance. She had to admit ruefully that she’d never given their internal workings so much as a second thought, merely noticing their wear and tear as the years went on. To be fair to herself, it wasn’t as though she’d constantly been in contact with him during the time of the Empire’s rule. In all, she’d encountered him three times after the Siege: once during her early years aiding the Rebellion, nearly a decade after that on Malachor, and now, on Tatooine. Why hadn’t he upgraded his kriffing legs before‽ Hadn’t he run nearly the entire black market at one point? He’d had the funds. She frowned, wishing she hadn’t just learned of another extra layer of misery the Zabrak apparently lived with.

“Are these medical advancements… new?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “How recently have these options been available?” She hoped he’d had the opportunity for a long time and simply refused to take advantage of them due to some twisted Sith logic.

“The use of titanium has become accepted more widely in the medical field within the past eight years, give or take,” the GH replied. “These prosthetics are much older than that. Our team almost considered replacing the entire prosthesis with a new one – complete with synthflesh – but we figured that might be too discombobulating for the patient and would take a long time and physical therapy for him to get used to. Fortunately, we were able to find compatible parts and reconstruct everything around the older frame. We are quite satisfied with our work.” The droid beamed proudly at her.

The former Jedi nodded sullenly, turning her gaze back to Maul. She noticed her hand was still resting on his leg, and although she knew he couldn’t feel it, she drew her hand back, suddenly embarrassed.

“Is he awake?” she asked.

“Impossible to say,” the droid replied. “His vitals have not changed for hours, but that may be due to the effects of the newoongall toxin. My personal guess would be that he is not conscious. Most organics’ minds tend to drift when the body cannot respond. It is a natural coping mechanism.”

“Right,” the Togruta said with another nod. “In any case, would you be so kind as to retrieve a hard copy of his full medical file? I will require one to hand over to the New Republic.”

“Of course, gladly,” the GH-8 replied instantly, zooming towards the door. “I will fetch you a datapad containing the information at once.”

The moment the medical droid was out the door, Ahsoka leaned down towards the Zabrak. She was still not getting any indication from the bled kyber crystals that the Nightbrother was using them or trying to connect to them at all. “Hey, old man,” she said quietly, holding on to the safety rails of the capsule. This one was definitely a newer model than the one used to bring Maul in: bulkier, with more security features. It seemed the Rodians were taking his threat at least somewhat seriously. “Can you hear me?”

Of course, he didn’t answer, but Ahsoka continued, feeling the need to inform him of what was going on, even if he could do nothing about it. “I may have blown your cover with the Rodians,” she muttered, glancing quickly towards the door. “I think they’ve guessed who you are. I’m not sure what I’ll do if they try to keep us here by force but know that I’ll get us out of here. I’ll think of something.” Dwang, why was she trying to give him a pep-talk? Perhaps it was more for herself. “Hang in there, Gramps. And…” Looking down at his prone form, she noticed the vermillion scar upon his lower chest – an angry starburst disfiguring the tribal patterns of his torso. The bacta had allowed the flesh to heal, but the skin that grew over the gaping wound she’d given him was new and untainted by whatever ink he’d had previously. It was a striking reminder of what she’d done to him, and regardless of the circumstances that had led her to that moment, she felt a stirring of remorse. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so quietly the mask barely registered the sound and retransmitted it, albeit in monotone. “Perhaps you got what you deserved, but I’m sorry I had to be the one to dole it out. I’m sorry things escalated to this point. I’m sorry I ran into you, and I’m sorry I freaked out and shot you. You _were_ going to kill me, weren’t you?” She paused, swallowing down the tightness in her throat. “I’m sorry… I didn’t even give you the chance to prove my instincts wrong.”

The doors to the room slid open just then, and the GH-8 droid floated in, a datapad in one of its three-fingered hands. After it passed the device over to her, Ahsoka asked, deciding to take a risk: “Listen, it’s imperative that I keep vigilance over this guy personally. I need to take him to my ship. Is there any way he can be released into my custody?”

She waited for the inevitable denial on the droid’s part, but instead, she was surprised when it replied, “That will not be an issue. I will only require you to electronically sign the release forms.”

“Really?” Ahsoka asked, surprised. She hadn’t expected it to be _that_ easy. “There won’t… be any problems?”

“I see no reason why there would be,” the GH said. “You _are_ the responsible party for the patient. In either case, we received official word just now that we are to assist you in whatever you need in the securing and transporting of your ward. I was just now about to show you the transmission I have been tasked with relaying to you, on behalf of Senator Dor Wieedo.”

With that, the automaton projected a three-dimensional hologram of the Rodian politician from a slit in its chest, in what was obviously a pre-recorded message.

“Agent Fulcrum,” the senator began, smoothing out the front of his lush robes. He seemed a bit nervous. “I am pleased to inform you that the Great Navik has decided to oblige your request of departing at once along with your quarry. After discussing the information you’ve provided us with our Internal Intelligence, our Grand Protector has concluded that it would be to our best interest – as well as the Republic’s, of course – if we not only allow you to depart with your prisoner at once but assist you in any way you deem necessary. We have reason to suspect that the individual in your custody is one who has caused the deaths of several of our Supreme Hunters in the past. If this is who we suspect him to be, we acknowledge that Rodia does not have the capacity to keep him contained. Frankly, we doubt if even the New Republic has the means to. We will see you off with a fully armed escort fleet for your own protection. We wish you safe travels, and although you are of course welcome here, we hope you never return with this criminal to our system ever again.” With those final words, the recording ended, and the hologram abruptly dissipated.

At first, the Togruta felt a wave of relieved disbelief wash over her, and she breathed deeply. She certainly hadn’t expected things to take that turn. She was almost grateful for how horrible a person Maul was, to where even the dreaded Navik of Chattza Clan wanted nothing to do with him. However, she had scarcely allowed herself to relax her shoulders a bit when she sensed a slight heat start up from her rear lek. The kyber crystals were finally stirring… did that mean Maul was awake after all? But no, this sensation was similar to the one she’d had when she had stood in Dor Wieedo’s office. The crystals seemed to be buzzing suspiciously, as in warning. But that couldn’t be, could it? Kyber crystals were alive, she knew, but not in the same manner as organic beings. They absorbed the world around them through their wielders and offered support when needed. _This_ pair of gems had a true sentience of their own, capable of formulating concrete thoughts, or so it appeared, at least. They were telling her to beware. **_If it seems too good to be true, it likely is._** Hm, _there_ was that same sinister whisper in her head. She wondered if Maul heard them, too.

“If I may take the datapad back, please,” the GH-8 stated, oblivious to her unease. “I can pull up that release form so you can sign it now.”

Ahsoka nodded numbly, handing the device back over. In the span of a few minutes, the matter was over. Maul was officially back in her custody, no strings attached, no extra clauses. Now _she_ was getting suspicious. There hadn’t been anything hidden in the release document; she’d taken the time to check. The Rodians really _were_ relinquishing Maul over to her just like that. Were they truly that afraid of him?

“We at Emergency Services can offer you the temporary use of this capsule and one of our hover-ambulances in order to transport the patient back to your ship,” the droid informed her. “Unfortunately, we will be requiring the equipment back. Even if the New Republic were to offer to purchase the capsule as part of the treatment, we must politely refuse. Around the Outer Rim, these are difficult to come by.”

“I understand, and it won’t be a problem,” Ahsoka said. “My own shuttle has a med-bay area with the proper restraining implements. But yes, any help getting him onboard is appreciated.”

The GH floated over to the doors and opened them, signaling to the two guards posted outside. The large Rodians walked in stoically and took hold of the capsule, one on each side. They didn’t so much as look at Ahsoka before they closed the transparisteel lid with the push of a button and began to move it forward. The ex-Jedi walked closely behind the shuttle, and the medical droid hovered after them briefly, only for enough time to inform the Togruta: “I have already transmitted the order for an ambulance to transport you back to the main starport. We thank you for utilizing our facility and placing your trust in Emergency Services.” It bobbed politely in place before turning and zipping down the hallway, already in pursuit of its next task.

Ahsoka didn’t have the chance to reply as she strode to keep up with the retreating bounty hunters. As was promised, there was a medical repulsorcraft awaiting them just outside the building’s wide doors. After loading the capsule into the back of the transport, the two Rodian guards walked to the front of the vehicle and said something to whoever was driving, then slapped the front of the craft and walked away, back towards the Eanca Goa-Ato. Ahsoka didn’t bother to check the front cabin and climbed in through the back, wanting to avoid being separated from the Zabrak. She was pleasantly surprised to see Cebb Nereno inside already, adjusting the capsule and locking it into place.

“Cebb!” she exclaimed with a smile. She sat across from him, the med-capsule between them. With Maul secured, the young Rodian banged his fist against the window of the front cabin, signaling for the driver to start up the ambulance. He nodded curtly to Ahsoka and avoided eye contact, busying himself instead with the readouts from the pod. Whatever warm feelings had blossomed within the Togruta when she’d seen the reptilian medic quickly dissipated. Something was definitely amiss. She wanted to ask Cebb about it but figured by the way he moved in a nervous, jerky fashion that he was not at liberty to speak freely. Instead, she absentmindedly rubbed the front of her leather breastplate, seeking the comfort of the kyber crystals of her weapons. How she wished she could hold them firmly in her hands, listen to their gentle hum…!

The ride back to the starport wasn’t long, but in the tense silence, time seemed to slow down for the Togruta. She was beyond relieved when the hovercraft came to a stop and didn’t even wait for Cebb to get off before pushing the doors open and leaping out herself. The chauffer left the engine of the ambulance running and sped off as soon as both his companion and Cebb had disembarked and removed the medical capsule. Ahsoka noticed that all the Rodians seemed to be moving quicker, as though in a haste to return to their posts, and those hanging around the garage were suddenly busy getting far away from her and the hover-pod. Cebb was the only person she noticed who had no qualms in standing close to the encapsulated Zabrak, but he was definitely tense around _her._ He said not a word and grabbed the gurney by one of the handles and walked purposefully down the hallway, towards the larger landing dock, where Ahsoka could see her shuttle remained. The Rodian accompanying them reluctantly followed behind, keeping a good distance – more than an arm’s length – from Ahsoka and the pod. He gripped his blaster rifle tightly in his hands, and like most of the other bounty hunters she had run across, he had the safety off his weapon.

Once they reached her T-6, Cebb instantly boarded without stopping to ask her if that was alright. With a frown, Ahsoka followed, and the other Rodian soon after. The reptilian medic guided the capsule over to the med-bay table of her ship, and here he waited for his companion, lowering the transparisteel cover and removing the energy binders.

“I’ll need you to help me move the patient,” he instructed to the other Rodian, and Ahsoka was surprised and slightly impressed at the sudden authority in his tone. He was no longer stuttering, and his movements were sure and precise as he reached over to Maul’s wrists and undid the stun cuffs keeping him secured to the capsule.

The Rodian bounty hunter moved instinctively closer to Ahsoka, as though wanting to hide behind her frame. His yellowish green mottled skin paled a bit, making his scales stand out more. He was terrified. The Togruta didn’t need to be attuned with the Force to notice that. The bounty hunter croaked out something in Rodese, to which Cebb’s antennae quivered irately.

“He can’t _move,”_ he snapped in reply, moving to the head of the pod. “Look, I’ll take his upper half, and you can have the legs. Those are still shackled, okay? And I’ll put the binders on him as soon as he’s on the table.”

Ahsoka stepped forward, placing a hand on the side of the capsule. “I can help you move him,” she offered earnestly. She knew Maul was heavy, but even without augmenting her body’s limits using the Force, she was strong and could manage lifting the Zabrak if she had help.

“Thank you, Agent Fulcrum, but my partner here is capable. Put your gun down, vuth, and help me already.”

The bounty hunter twitched his snout before holstering his blaster to his side and stepping up to the foot of the med-capsule. On Cebb’s count, the pair lifted Maul up and heaved him onto the metal table of the shuttle. Vuth instantly released the Dathomirian’s legs and took hold of his blaster again, aiming it directly at Maul and not lowering it until Cebb had reapplied the stun cuffs and began to fasten him down using the available straps.

“These are not as good as energy binders, are you sure they will hold?” he asked the Togruta, finally addressing her. He still avoided eye contact with her, she noticed.

“I can deal with the old man if he tries to get loose,” Ahsoka replied. “Have you forgotten the state I brought him in?”

This brought a small, amused hoot from the Rodian medic, which made Ahsoka feel better. She didn’t want her last interactions with Cebb to be hostile or tense.

“Hey, Apabo,” Cebb told the bounty hunter. “We’re about done here. You can return to your post and take the capsule with you. Tell Master Crupp the patient has been successfully loaded back onto Agent Fulcrum’s ship. I’m just going to do a final wellness check on this guy before she clears out.”

The bounty hunter grunted but did not argue, rapidly turning and walking back down the boarding ramp, dragging the floating pod behind him.

“Apabo?” Ahsoka asked. “I thought his name was Vuth.”

Cebb Nereno hooted and whistled, giddy with himself. “Ah, no, no…” he explained, his eyes bright. “Vuth means ‘coward’ in our mother-tongue.”

The Togruta grinned behind her mask. The kid would be alright once she was gone, she was relieved to discover. Her presence there – and Maul’s – seemed to have served for him to grow something resembling a backbone. She was glad. Before she could tell him as much, however, Cebb had brought his gauntlet up to his face and muttered into his bracer computer: “Begin scheduled system update now. Clearance code boch-inet-tuv-doh.”

The datapad on his arm lit up, and a feminine voice replied, “Code accepted. Initiating system updates. Please note: all functions will be down while the process takes place. Please do not reboot until the procedure is complete.” With that, the screen went black. As soon as his gauntlet was dormant, Cebb walked over to the former Jedi and grabbed her by the arm – hard.

“I don’t have much time,” he whispered, his tone urgent. “Maybe a few minutes at best, before the update completes. If I don’t turn my bracer-com on after that, higher command will get suspicious.”

Ahsoka nodded, a knot of apprehension forming in her gut. She _knew_ something had been odd about the young medic’s shift in attitude.

“The RHF is going to offer you an escort out of Tyrius,” Cebb said, his eyes darting towards the boarding ramp nervously. “Do _not_ take it! Navik has ordered the Fleet to attack your ship before you get to the Turnaround. They want your guy. Whoever he is, Wieedo’s scared of him. Navik is too, I think, but he thinks he can make a profit while getting him out of here anyway. Your ward is wanted by the Black Sun, the Pikes _and_ the Hutts. But you knew this, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t aware of the Hutts taking an interest in him,” Ahsoka said, “but I suspected he’d be wanted by the underground. I _did_ tell you he was dangerous.”

“Dangerous and _valuable,”_ Cebb corrected. “The plan is to ambush you as you’re getting beyond Taoska, where they’ll force you to enter the planet’s orbit before shooting you down. If things go as planned, Crupp and the RHF will pick your man out of the wreckage and make sure _you_ don’t come out of it. Even if you survive, the blizzards will bury your vessel in several feet of ice in less than a standard day. The miners there won’t help you if they even notice. They’re too afraid of what Navik will do to their clans. And, well, if you _both_ die in the crash, no scales off anyone’s back. The New Republic already deposited the funds for your ward’s medical treatment in Rodia’s account with the Banking Clan. Navik will probably just have Wieedo worm his way through Senate hearings in order to avoid sanctions if they arise. I know I shouldn’t be aware of any of this, but… I listened in on Crupp’s transmissions.”

“How?”

“I, um…” here he was beginning to act a bit bashful again, as though reluctant to admit a secret, “I hacked into his bracer-com once when he had me clean his armor. It wasn’t too hard; guy’s an absolute koochu. I still make a habit out of it, tapping into his communications through my own gear. I mean, not _too_ often! But by the way he and Wieedo were acting since they heard the New Republic was sending an emissary over, I knew it’d be important.”

“I see,” Ahsoka said with a nod, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Still, I have little choice but to accept your government’s offer, though, don’t I? The Rodian Home Fleet monitors all outgoing vessels from Tyrius. I’d be breaking Rodian law if I forgo the escort, and then Crupp will have an excuse to blast me out of the sky before I ever leave orbit.”

“Well, they weren’t expecting you when you _arrived,”_ Cebb offered. “I mean, they got the call from the New Republic, sure, but if they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have known you were here. How _did_ you get here? You didn’t take the regular hyperspace lanes, did you?”

“No, I took uncharted space. It was faster,” the Togruta explained. “It meant I had to maneuver around the dump site, but –”

“Wait, you came in through the _Scrapyard‽”_ Cebb exclaimed. “You’re insane! It’s no wonder the RHF didn’t trace your ship sooner!” Taking hold of her shoulders and shaking her gently, he demanded, “Do you think you can do that again? You may just be able to best them that way if you can manage it a second time. Honestly, it’s the only way I see for you to make it out of here alive.” He looked up at her with large blue eyes, anxiety writ all over his face. His hands on her shoulders were trembling.

Behind her mask, Ahsoka’s eyes softened. Her heart went out to the kid, for she knew the extreme amount of courage he’d had to muster up to bring himself to notify her. If he were caught, it could mean death for him, or a lifetime of forced labor in the icy mines of Taoska, or worse: sent to live on one of the moons around Pirdia or Toosma and made to travel to the gas giants in order to extract the vaporized ores found there. She had learned of the horrors of that life, met many Rodians over the years who had family members die painfully due to exposure to the fumes. She took his hands from her shoulders and squeezed them gently.

“Come with me,” she urged.

The medic stepped back, shaking his head. “I can’t desert my family. What will become of them when Crupp finds out I deserted illegally? We’re a small clan. We have no power or influence.”

The Togruta swallowed a lump in her throat, deeply moved. Nodding in understanding, she crossed her arms across her chest and placed her hands upon her own shoulders, bowing her head deeply in the Rodian salute. “Cebb Nereno, I thank you,” she said solemnly.

Cebb tut-tutted under his breath, waving his long-fingered hands in front of his chest rapidly. “No, you don’t need to…” he said quickly. “I’m not a hero in all this, I’m no one special. In fact, I’m _terrified._ But, b-but…” he blinked a few times, looking down at his hands. “Abe, he was… he would’ve… he would have _helped_ you. I know it.”

Just then, his gauntlet chimed, and the feminine voice rang out: “System update complete. Please restart your equipment’s computer.” Cebb involuntarily yelped upon hearing the sound, and he rapidly fumbled with the touchscreen.

“I… I need to get going,” he said nervously. “Please consider what I said. Good luck.” He glanced over down at the bound Zabrak. “T-to both of you. I know you told me he’s the worst, but if he makes Navik tremble half as much as Crupp makes me, well, he’s alright as far as I’m concerned.”

Without giving Ahsoka an opportunity to answer, he hurried away towards the boarding ramp and was soon gone. The former Jedi walked into the cockpit and looked out the viewing window, only managing to catch sight of Cebb’s retreating figure as he sprinted from the dock back towards the smaller garage. She truly hoped the kid found his courage. “Goodbye, Cebb Nereno,” she whispered. “May the Force be with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story keeps getting longer and longer, way more than I originally intended. This chapter was difficult for me to start up, but seeing as how the action is about to pick up, that'll hopefully help me crank out the pages.


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